Faraway Dreams
by Emmithar
Summary: Fourth in 'unamed series'. Happily ever after seemed so far away, especially at a time like this. Questions of trust and loyalty arise when a new threat interferers in Greg and Sara’s life. Along with that comes new dangers as an old case resurfaces, brin
1. Chapter 1

**Faraway Dreams **

**By: **Emmithar

**Rating: **T

**Disclaimer: **CSI and all recognizable characters belong to Anthony Zuiker and CBS. All others belong to me. Please ask before using them.

**Summary: **Happily ever after seemed so far away, especially at a time like this. Questions of trust and loyalty arise when a new threat interferers in Greg and Sara's life. Along with that comes new dangers as an old case resurfaces, bringing to light memories that should have been forgotten.

**A/N: **Yes…a little sooner than I had intended, a little later than I promised. But I'm easily excited sometimes about a particular story and I can't wait. Bad habits, I know. Thanks go out to **_Becca_** for betaing this for me. Chapter shout out goes to **_Lizzy Sidle_**

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**Chapter One: New Beginnings **

He had known about it for weeks. It had been on his mind the entire time, and with each passing day it grew closer, twisting his stomach into painful knots. Now it was tonight, and he had gotten ready early, too afraid of being late. Now, as he stood in front of the mirror, he reached up with shaky hands to redo the bow tie that rested under his neck one last time.

Giving it one last tug, he checked himself over in the mirror, frowning at his own reflection. The bowtie was now tilting to one side, giving him a lopsided appearance. Sighing, Greg muttered a curse under his breath, reaching up to pull it free of the knot, his hands moving over one another as he retied it.

Once that was done, he folded back his collar of his tuxedo, reaching up to smooth his hair back. He paused for a moment, frowning again as he ruffled his hair back up. After much consideration, he had chosen to go with a plain black suit. It wasn't his first choice, but after much prodding from Sara he finally gave in. That and the considerably lower price tag. Plus he was too nervous to really argue.

Letting out another sigh, Greg smoothed his hair back down, reaching for the bow tie, stopping as he heard her laugh. He glanced at her from the corner of his eye, watching as she walked into the bathroom slowly. Oddly enough, she had chosen an outfit quickly, a plain red dress that cut off just below her knees, slimming over her waist. Her hair hung loosely by her face, the same style that Greg and all the others were accustomed with. Still, she looked beyond beautiful, her grace coming from somewhere that not even Greg could explain.

"There's not going to be much left of that bowtie if you keep messing with it," she teased him lightly, grabbing a hold of his hands, her fingers closing over his as she pulled them away. "You're shaking," she noted, concern evident in her voice as her light tone dissipated quickly.

Greg swallowed, looking back into the mirror. "I'm a little nervous," he admitted, letting out a sigh as she reached up to straighten his bow tie.

"You shouldn't be, you're practically the guest of honor," she reminded him. Her arms moved around his waist as she rested her head on his shoulder, her eyes studying his reflection in the mirror.

"That," Greg told her, pausing to take a breath, "is the reason why I'm so nervous. I don't see why I have to be there," he muttered lightly, refolding his collar again.

"Greg," Sara's voice was soft as she closed her eyes, her lips grazing along his neck. "They can't give you an award if you're not there. You're employee of the year, that's a wonderful honor."

"It's a cheap award to make people work harder without any extra pay," Greg argued, letting out another long sigh. "Besides, I don't feel like I've earned it."

"After all you've been through?" Sara asked skeptically, looking up at him. She moved her arms from his waist up around his neck, resting lightly on his shoulders. "You've done so much just this last year."

"Let's not forget I've spent half of that in the hospital," he reminded her curtly. "What about Nick and Warrick and Catherine? They've all done three times the amount of work that you and I have done combined. They deserve something as well, don't they?"

Sara gave him a small smile, giving him a hug as she straightened up. "You're so quick to praise others that you never give yourself a chance to shine," she commented. "Tonight is your night, which we will be late for if we don't get going."

Greg laughed softly, getting one last good look in the mirror. "I think I'm ready," he announced lightly, trying to muster up a confident smile.

"Almost," Sara told him, grinning. She reached up with her fingers, running them through his hair, ruffling it back up to its normal chaos. "There," she stated with a proud smile. "Now you're ready."

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They had something like this every year. But it was a first for Greg. Last year he had been in the hospital, the year before that at a trainer seminar. That was, of course, not too long after he became a full fledged CSI. Lab techs and other personal were invited to the dinners, but Greg usually found himself working, using the down time to catch up on samples, and any other much needed work.

The amount of people there was enormous, and Greg felt himself on the edge of claustrophobia for the first time in his life. Of course not wanting to be there in the first place wasn't helping very much. He felt as though there was a lump in his throat, nearly suffocating him and he swallowed painfully, forcing a smile as he greeted yet another couple.

Everyone wanted to meet him. It wasn't just because he was a new face, but because of his publicity from the last trial, and the series of kidnappings. It was publicity Greg never wanted. Now everyone treated him like some sort of celebrity, when all he wanted was to be left alone. He and Sara had little time alone as it was, the last thing he wanted to do was to answer endless questions about their personal life.

He avoided the house phone, and it only took a handful of days before Sara yanked the cord from the wall. This in all was okay, because the only people they actually talked to were those from the lab, and they always tried their cells first. The only other hassle they had was getting to and from the lab.

Several reporters enjoyed lounging around the entrance, forcing Greg and Sara to use the side and rear exits to come and go. This tactic worked fine, for a while that was. Coming to work became a game of cat-and-mouse, picking a single entrance and hoping that no one was there. Sometimes they were lucky, but most of the time there had been at the very least, one person waiting outside.

It wasn't until Brass stepped in that a change could be noted. The only time anyone ever hung around was when they were certain the detective wasn't around, and even then it was easy to avoid them.

In the past few weeks however they were beginning to lose their interest in the story, moving along now to keep pace with real life as other commotions broke out. For Greg it was not entirely too soon. Even tonight there had only been a few reporters, who had, at least at his assumption, come to garner rumor and gossip from the annual dinner, and upon seeing him choose to press their questions.

"You're doing surprisingly well."

Greg let out a strained smile as Sara came up alongside him, bringing him into a warm embrace as she kissed him tenderly. It was short, because although the lab already knew of their status, Grissom had cautioned them that not everyone in the department would approve of their relationship. Even still Sara refused to pretend that nothing was going on, but had agreed to downplay it.

"Why?" he queried, muttering through clenched teeth as he forced another smile. "Are you expecting me to screw something up?"

She chuckled, one hand still lingering on his arm as she brushed the hair from her face with the other. "I know you didn't want to come, but I'm glad you did."

He said nothing in return, at least not at first, but then could not help but smile for real. "I suppose you want me to say that I'm glad as well?"

She just smiled, and he laughed, shaking his head. "Fine…I'm glad I came to."

It was an outright lie, and he knew that Sara could tell that. But his point had gotten across…he was trying. For Sara that was all that mattered to her. And for Sara he would do anything.

"That's good," she said sweetly, smiling still, "I'm going to be headed off for a bit, just so that you know."

"You're working?" Greg shook his head, unable to believe yet, but somehow not surprised as he thought he should be. The lab was just across the street, no more than a five minute walk. It was a great convenience if someone was needed, or they had a break-through in a case. After all, life didn't take a break just because they were. "Sara…"

"I'm just going to check on the John Doe case, it won't take more than ten minutes," she told him quickly, causing him to frown. He knew that she had been wrapped up in this case from the very start, angered and irritated by the simple fact that she couldn't find any promising lead. It had caused many late nights, and early days for her, and Greg found himself seeing less and less of her.

"This was supposed to be our night," he protested, reaching out for her hand. Disappointingly she pulled away, hands hanging free at her side.

"This is your night," she reminded him, "You don't need me around to be yourself. Besides, I'm just going in to get the updates, and I swear I'll be right back."

Greg started to shake his head, started to protest but Sara beat him to it. "If anything happens just call me on my cell. I promise I'll come right over."

"I don't know," he said softly, knowing that he shouldn't be this discouraged. Sara was right, he didn't need her to be there, but he wanted her to be.

"I promise," she said again, this time with more emphasis, relieved to see that Greg was finally agreeing. She gave him a smile, a quick squeeze of the hand, ready to make her leave when both of their names were called.

She could see Greg smile, and despite her frustration she let out one as well. "Detective Brass," she noted, turning around to greet the other man.

He merely smiled, nodding to the two before turning around, glancing over his shoulder. "I'd like you to meet our newest recruits, transfers from LA."

Brass, of course was referring to the threesome that was following behind. The first, the oldest of the three, shook their hands, nodding his head. "Alfred Damen," Brass introduced lightly. "Worked in LA for years as a cop, became a detective about a year ago. The city had some financial problems so they sent him on our way. He provides a promising record."

Alfred chuckled at the comment, shaking his head. "Don't let the age fool you, I'm still a rookie. Ask me anything about the police force and I can give you a damn summary but I'm still working at this detective stuff. I was the newest one in that area, it doesn't matter that I worked with the force for seventeen years."

"I know how that is," Greg agreed mildly, one hand slipping behind his back to grasp Sara's as she shifted agitatedly. "I'm still getting used to all this CSI stuff." He took a moment to gauge the man, who had to be in his late thirties, hair though mostly brown was starting to thin out, grey already working it's way in. He was a tall man, and big-boned, and though Greg wouldn't be the first to admit it out loud, he was a bit rotund.

"Jaysen Lewir worked with LA for two months, also part of the cut backs. Schooled in Chicago, moved out Sacramento before landing a job with LAPD. He's still in training so one of us will always have to keep an eye on him."

The other man laughed, shaking hands first with Greg, than with Sara, his fingers lingering on hers for a moment longer, causing her to draw back with a firm smile. "Sorry," Jaysen apologized, "Sometimes I can't help myself, especially around such beautiful women."

Greg took a step closer to Sara as she blushed, grateful that Brass had started speaking once again. "Brownnosing doesn't work with Miss Sidle," he pointed out firmly.

"But it certainly doesn't hurt to try," Sara laughed softly, smiling still.

He was at least a head shorter than Alfred, putting him at almost Greg's height. His black hair was pulled back into a tie, stopping at his neck line. It was obvious his hair had been dyed, standing out sharply in contrast with his pale complexion. It was silent for a moment before the third member moved in, shaking hands with the both of them much to Greg's delight. Even still he couldn't help notice that Jaysen's eyes had yet to leave Sara.

"Carla Raquel, has a few more months under her belt than Jaysen, but still a lot to learn," Brass nodded, indicating the blonde. She was the shortest of the bunch, long hair draping down her back, and her firm handshake stating that she was very upfront. You couldn't ask for a better attitude when it came to police work.

For a while the group stayed together, discussing the lab in general, and mostly putting the newcomers at ease. Brass explained that they had arrived just that day, a perfect time in accordance with the dinner. It gave them ample opportunity to meet the faces that they would be working with over the next several months, and hopefully in the continuing years that followed after.

Sara, of course, excused herself in due time, but much later than she had wanted. Greg had not wanted to see her go, especially now, as he gritted his teeth, doing his best to listen to what the others were saying, and give them decent answers. It was hard to pay attention when he wasn't even interested, but he couldn't help feeling sorry for the detective. After all Brass had to have spent most of the day with them already, and as much as they were talking now he couldn't even begin to imagine what Jim had to put up with.

He stayed with them for only a few more minutes afterwards, quietly excusing himself. Sara, if she had stuck true to her word, would be back any minute now, and Greg purposely waited by the front of the door, his eyes always seeking out her slender form. He knew it was unhealthy to be this attached to someone, but the more he was apart from her, the more he truly realized how much he loved her.

His hand slipped into his pocket, fingering the small box that was inside. He had spent a great deal of time choosing the perfect ring, one that would display his affection for her, and at the same time wouldn't overwhelm her. Sara wasn't much into jewelry, and she had a strong distaste for things that were flashy. It made finding something difficult, but after nearly a month of looking, he found what he felt was the perfect ring. The only problem that remained now was presenting it to her…that and asking her to actually marry him.

That had been weeks ago now, and though he had tried several times he had never actually built up the courage to ask. What if she wasn't ready? What if he ruined a perfectly good relationship? Greg couldn't stand losing her. He was willing to remain her boyfriend forever if it meant keeping things the way they were now. His fingers wrapped around the box as he let out a heavy sigh.

Greg always made sure to keep it on him. Firstly because he never knew when and where he would finally ask her, and secondly to keep Sara from finding it herself. Too many times had he imagined the embarrassment he would face if Sara found it their dresser, or if it accidentally fell from his locker at work. No…the only way to keep it truly safe was to keep it with him…and at all times.

With a smile he let go of the item, sliding his hand free of his pocket as he spotted his girlfriend crossing the parking lot. And in just in time too, as everyone began to gather inside the dining hall, the sheriff's voice coming over the loudspeaker.

Greg tapped his wrist, visually enough so that she could see, and hurried her along. Sara let out a low breath of air, squeezing Greg's hand as she stepped inside. With a small shake of her head she indicated that there had been nothing new, and without a word the pair slipped inside, taking a seat in the back as the dinner began.

**TBC**


	2. Doubles

**Thanks for the comments so far! All mistakes belong to me since I did not have this betaed, but thanks goes out to Jenny for her help in this when I became stuck. **

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**Chapter Two: Doubles**

He had woken up alone. It wasn't unusual, just unwanted. The dinner from last night had lasted well into the early hours of the morning, Greg and Sara getting home later than they normally would from work. There hadn't been much said between them, both opting to skip a shower in favor of hitting the bed straight away. Greg wasn't sure how long he had slept, but it obviously had been a while.

Still on his stomach he reached out with his hand, letting it rest on the mattress next to him, noting that it was indeed cold. Sara had gone into work early, either by choice or call-in. Sara wouldn't have bothered to wake him to let him know.

Rolling to his side his eyes sought out the cheap bedside alarm clock, surprised to see that it wasn't as late as he predicted, which was both a good thing, as well as bad. Good because it meant he still had enough time before shift to shower and eat, bad because it meant Sara had probably done neither.

He knew their job was stressful, knew that Sara took it far more seriously than he did, serious enough to the point that she would often put her health at risk. It wasn't until a few nights ago he noticed she had started wearing a belt in order to keep her pants up. That was when he had threatened to approach Grissom about her condition. The fear of being pulled off of any case was enough of a reminder. But even so Greg knew he had to do his part. If he didn't keep an eye on her, she would easily trade a meal or a good night's sleep for a few more hours of work.

With that in mind Greg rolled out of bed, yawning as he entered the bathroom. He noted with a smile the towel on the counter that was halfway folded, and damp to the touch. So Sara had taken a shower after all. Maybe she had also eaten, but Greg didn't dwell on the thought for long, knowing that she most likely had skipped breakfast all together. That was okay though, because if he got into work early enough, they would grab something to eat during one of her breaks.

He was beginning to really miss her. It was hard to remember the last time they really spent an evening together. Work, as well as life in general, continued to get in the way. One of the biggest changes was their new landlord, who was nice but in an awkward way. His latest feat consisted of renovating many of the unused apartments, and renumbering the apartments throughout the entire complex. Since most of the construction happened during the day, the time he and Sara were home, they found it hard to do much of anything.

But Sara was neither the type of person who always wanted to be on the go. She found it relaxing to just head home after a stressing case, and watch a few forensic files, or become lost in a book. Greg could convince her to go out somewhere, but she wasn't as socially outgoing as he was. She preferred some of the quieter aspects of life, and would often entice Greg to spend a romantic evening at home. But lately even that seemed to be a rarity. With Sara pulling more than her fair share of hours she was often tired, and slept most of the time spent at home. Greg could handle it for a little while, but that was about it. The last thing he wanted was an endless string of missed chances and lost causes to parade around their relationship. If it wasn't going to work out, then it just wasn't meant to be, despite how much Greg wanted it.

* * *

He arrived there shortly after shift change. The hallways were still crowded as swings filtered out leisurely; the lab at the current moment wasn't pressured by any cases or leads. Greg worked his way through, searching the empty rooms for any sign of Sara. There was no real way to tell if she was here, or perhaps out in the field unless he asked. Since he was not involved in her current case, he had no right nor reason to know her exact whereabouts, although he knew several people that would willingly tell him without second thoughts.

The only problem was of course Ecklie, who up until a few weeks ago tolerated their relationship. The man stated that since things were now back to normal, anything that was said or done between them that was considered even slightly private was supposed to be kept as such. If the head honcho heard that Greg was looking for his girlfriend on company time for an unrelated work matter, the man had warned of dire consequences.

Dire as in separate shifts, and even as far as relieving one, or possibly both of them from work. Greg had protested, angry at the fact that they were being forced to keep their relationship in the dark. Everyone at the lab already knew about their standings, even many of the cops and detectives they often worked with. It was no secret, and no surprise. It was one thing to keep it private, and a complete different to pretend it never existed.

Sara, however, seemed perfectly open to it. It was surprising, despite the fact that she and Greg had already discussed the dos and don'ts at work. He had been reasonably upset at the fact that she would agree without so much of a protest at first. But after spending a good afternoon fuming about her rash decision he came to the conclusion that Sara had actually been right…even if only somewhat. She had tested the limits once, and it had almost cost her her job. Greg knew that wasn't something she was willing to risk once again. And with the amount of publicity the two had acquired and the lack of days they had actually attended they were already considered on the brink of being fired.

It wasn't actually seeing her that led Greg to her whereabouts, but rather the fact that he had heard her, smiling to himself as he recognized the one and only sweet intoxicating laugh that filled the corridors. It was more of a giggle, which, by his standards, was a sweeter sound, since Sara was not the exact person that truly ever giggled. His steps slowed as he approached the room, smiling casually as entered.

The joke, whatever it had been, seemed to die down with his sudden presence, even Sara, with her hand pressed to her mouth, did her best to silence her soft laughter. Jaysen was on the opposite side of the room, one arm draped over an open cabinet as he leaned back against the row of cupboards. There too was a smile across his face, but he remained quiet, his eyes drifting from the laughing brunette to where Greg stood in the doorway.

"I should be going," the young man said suddenly, picking up a small cup from the counter behind him. "New call-out, just came in. You'll be getting the case handout soon."

Greg sidestepped him as he walked by, watching as the man turned back to give a short wave to Sara who replied back with a warm smile. Unable to resist Greg turned back to her, raising a questioning eyebrow. "What was that all about?"

"Nothing," she responded cheekily, turning away from him. She had her own cup, and was refilling it with more coffee. "He just offered some help on my John Doe case, which by the way is no longer a John Doe, but a Wayne Jullian; he was a baggage handler down at the airport. Doc Robbins says that's most likely where he was killed; given the fact his ear drums were shattered post-mortem."

"You had a detective trainee help you on your case?" Greg wondered mildly. "Instead of asking for help from, oh for starters, me? Even Nick maybe? The two of us have been filing cold cases for the last three days and you don't bother even asking us?"

"I didn't ask," Sara stated firmly, frowning. "He offered. He's new around here, doesn't know the town or the lab very well. What did you want me to say? Besides, he found a lead. Jaysen used to fly planes when he was younger, he and his dad. He knows how the system works. According to him, handling baggage can be a rough job, but it wasn't what caused our vic's injuries; they're too severe. The ramps though, not intended for human travel."

Greg nodded solemnly, still irritated at the fact she had gone to an outside source for help before asking him. "You think someone dumped his body on the ramps?"

"That or he got lost," Sara said with a slight smirk, taking a long sip of the heated liquid. "Some of the bruising is perimortem, the rest happened after he died. So it's possible this can all be one big incident."

"Save for the fact of the incriminating GSW in his chest," Greg pointed out mildly. "Guns aren't allowed in the airport."

"The gunshot wound was at least a day old. Robbins found bruising in the wound tract…"

"And if it had been the COD, there wouldn't have been time for the bruises to appear," Greg nodded slowly, understanding the situation then. "It could be possible."

Sara nodded, obviously pleased, moving to gather her things. Greg cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. "I was wondering if you wanted to get something to eat before we started tonight…"

Her response was a sheepish smile. "Thanks Greg…but I've already eaten."

"Honestly?" he wondered, raising an eyebrow. And here the entire time he had given her little more than complete doubt. He smiled as she nodded, but at the same time felt slightly dissatisfied. He had yet to eat himself, and had hoped to spend the time with her.

"Jaysen took me out," she replied, the statement causing Greg to raise an eyebrow.

"Jaysen took you out?"

Sara nodded, as though it was no real deal, moving to leave the room. Greg kept a steady pace with her, Sara slowing a bit so that they could talk with ease. "Me and Catherine," she continued. "We sort of stuck him with the bill, he didn't have much choice."

"Figures," he muttered, forcing a smile as she looked his way. It didn't seem as bad now, knowing that it had been a group event as opposed to a more…intimate outing, and at the thought Greg wanted to laugh. There was no way he could even consider this new guy…this Jaysen, to be a threat. After everything they had been through, after all that had happened, Greg knew that he could trust Sara…and that she deserved this trust at the very least. He had never been one to doubt her after all. Still it did not cease the bitter disappointment that was building up inside of him.

Sara, if anything, seemed to catch on, coming to a short stop as she watched him. "Why, was there something you wanted to talk about?"

He shook his head after a moment's consideration, the ever pertinent question lingering on his mind. Greg had mulled it over in his head, wondering if he should perhaps ask her today. But standing her now he knew that was a definite no. His answer apparently wasn't satisfying for Sara, who raised an eyebrow in question as she touched his shoulder gently.

Anything she was going to say however was cut off as Grissom rounded the corner, a frown crossing his face once seeing the two CSI's. "Shift started ten minutes ago," he warned the two of him, handing the slip of paper over to Greg.

"I've been here since three," Sara reminded him calmly, moving to make her way around him.

"Where are you going?"

She had come to a stop, frowning as she glanced at the older scientist. After a short pause she waved her reports, and then pointed down the hall. "Trace first, then by that time maybe Wendy will have something ready…why?"

"You have a new case," Grissom corrected her, pointing towards the paper in Greg's hand.

"But I just got a lead on this one…"

Her protests were cut off short as Grissom pointed towards the paper, indicating that he didn't want to hear another word on the matter. Sara was infamous for question authority, most precisely when it worked against her advantage. Greg couldn't help but smile quietly at her, before grinning. "I'll get the keys."

* * *

It was well after school hours, but that didn't stop the group of onlookers from gathering. Most were kids, preteens that had opted in skipping the bus in favor for witnessing all that had happened. The police were doing their best to contact parents, but that only seemed to worsen the problem, for the adults tended to be nosier than their own children.

There was little fear, however, throughout the crowd, which was unusual given the situation. One dead student, and a dead mother, their bodies lying in a gruesome display on the front stairs to the entrance of the school. The COD could be distinguished even from afar, the bullet wounds doing a number on both the victims.

Sara closed her eyes, letting the sudden wave of nausea and a discomfort pass before she proceeded under the yellow tape. The girl couldn't have been any older than the age of eight, her blonde hair matted in blood, her body sprawled facedown on the descending stairs. Her purple backpack decorated with flowers hung loosely over one shoulder. Several loose papers had fallen from the unzipped opening, drifting to the ground.

The mother wasn't very old herself. From a general guess Sara would have to say she was in her early twenties, no more than twenty-three years. Her hair looked as though it was once blonde, and yet now it was tinted brown with what seemed to be a cheap brand of dye, the sloppy work able to be seen clearly in the sun. She was laying up further than her daughter, her blue eyes clouded over, and a small blood pool under her head on the lower step.

"Anise Clearbrook, age 22, came to pick up her daughter Cynthia at 1:05 this afternoon. Janitor found them on his cleaning rounds around three," Brass stated monotonously as she approached the scene. "So far we have no witnesses. No one saw or heard anything."

"Suggests the killer may have used a silencer. I mean, gunshots on school grounds would send up a red flag," Sara frowned, kneeling next to the first body. She had to close her eyes as her stomach rolled once more. It was an odd sensation. She wasn't used to feeling this way.

Out of her entire career Sara had been sick maybe a handful of times. She swallowed nervously, forcing the queasiness to dissipate. She couldn't handle this right now; she couldn't afford to lose it. The last time she had gotten sick at a scene was several years back, when she was with Greg up in Oregon. Yet that time didn't really count, considering that it wasn't even a scene they were at. She let out a long breath, bringing the camera up to her face as she took several pictures. Then again it had been this long since having a scene so gruesome. She shivered involuntary when her eyes came in contact with that of the mother's, passing over the still form of the young child.

"They didn't even make it back to the car," Sara said sadly, sitting back on her haunches.

"Where exactly is the car?" Greg wondered, surveying the scene from behind the both of them.

"There are several cars still," Sara started, frowning when Greg cut her off.

"None of them are registered to the vic. All are accounted for from staff working at the school. No one vouches for transporting the victim, but the principal was able to give a detailed description of her car. Says it's a '99 black Honda Civic with a large dent on the front passenger side. Wasn't able to remember a full license plate, but remembers the last three letters being SFG."

"She can remember all of that?" Sara wondered, a skeptical look crossing her face. It was more common for no one to remember anything, than for someone to remember everything. That alone was suspicious.

"Her daughter just had her first child, it matches her initials," Greg muttered, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. Sara could feel some sympathy for him. Sometimes getting statements out of witnesses was a tiring task; in some cases it wasn't helpful, but it was important to catch the small details in order to fill in the missing gaps. "Plus she states Clearbrook picked up her daughter on a routinely basis, ten minutes late every day. She said Anise seemed overly eager to get her daughter out early today, and didn't give a valid reason. Just said it was personal."

"Maybe she was being chased," Sara put in, moving to her feet. "How long was her daughter enrolled here?"

"About a year," Brass cut in, following up on Sara's idea. "The daughter's in second grade. She transferred from a school in Arizona, I can find out which one when I get back to the office later."

"Check all the vehicles despite the principal's statement. I have a hard time believing this is a car jacking gone bad. You have so many opportunities to swipe a car, why take one in front of a school when kids are present?" Sara voiced, shaking her head slowly.

"Unless they wanted that car," Greg pointed out, but was unsure himself.

"I'll grab the parking lot, you can get her classroom," Sara told Greg softly, bending down to open her kit. She came to a pause when she felt his hand on her back, turning to look at him as he knelt down next to her.

"Are you okay?"

She shivered as his warm breath landed on the back of her neck, and she forced a smile, giving him a nod. "I'll be fine."

Greg gave her a smile in return, letting his hand linger for one second longer before moving away. Sara watched him leave before returning to her task, letting out a solemn sigh. She was still upset that Grissom had pulled her off her previous case, but now she knew why. A single mother and her daughter on the possible run meant a possible domestic violence case. The only thing missing from the picture aside from the car was the husband. And Sara knew that Grissom knew her all to well.

Whoever did this, would pay, and she would be certain of that. After all, helping catch the bad guys was her job, wasn't it?

**TBC**


	3. Unsettling Situations

**Love the reviews! So much here is the next chapter on my first night off. Really glad I have so many ppl sticking with me so far.**

**Thanks goes** **out to Kegel for betaing it, but all mistakes are still mine. Read and enjoy, and don't forget to review. **

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**Chapter Three: Unsettling Situations **

He wasn't the only one there; Greg coming to a short stop as he passed through the doors. Jaysen glanced up at him briefly, barely acknowledging him before turning back to the woman who was standing in the back of the room. Her arms were drawn tightly over her chest and her eyes were red; obviously she was upset over the entire matter, and Greg wouldn't blame her. Even if the child wasn't hers she still saw her nearly every day; a loss, after all, was still a loss.

He moved to the side, setting his case on the floor as he reached into his pocket, pulling out a pair of gloves. Jaysen was scribbling the notes on the pad up front, nodding as the teacher continued her story, doing her best to describe the young girl's mood. Greg waited for a moment longer, using the next pause to his advantage to inquire the whereabouts of the victim's desk.

He ignored the pointed looks Jaysen shot his way. Regardless of what the other man thought of him, he was just going to ignore it. He had a job to do, and that was what was important at this point in time. Greg headed towards the indicated location, smiling as he came across the child's name scrawled in crayon across the front.

"I let them create their own name tags," the teacher told him quietly, her gaze transfixed on the very spot. "It gives them a chance to identify with themselves who they are. Gives them a chance to be creative."

Greg nodded, giving her a weak smile before kneeling down so that he was eye level with the opening. In the background he could hear the young detective talking again, the pencil scratching against the paper as he wrote, but Greg ignored it as he frowned, focusing on what he was looking at. Or rather what he was not.

The desk itself was virtually clean. A few school books, a handful of crayons, and a few pencil shavings, but that was all. There was no dust, no dirt…no mess. A highly unusual trait for such a young child. Greg had always been up to par with his organization…nothing exaggerate, but to a point that he knew where everything was. The problem here was that not even he was this tidy at his given age.

"She was very tedious."

Greg glanced up quickly; shamefully embarrassed to admit the woman had startled him. Letting out a breath he nodded for her to continue, noting with mild amusement that Jaysen had already left the room. It wasn't mandatory for the detectives to update anyone immediately, but it was preferred. It made his job easier, Greg knowing that simple things could be overlooked without a story to put it against.

"Cynthia would clean her desk out everyday. First she would pull out all her books and set them on her chair, then go get the cleaner off the counter. She wouldn't stop until it was sparkly clean inside. Then she would put everything back before leaving for the day. Her mother would be here by then."

"If that's the case," Greg cleared his throat, moving to his feet. "Then why are there pencil shavings inside?"

"Her mother pulled her out before the girl had a chance. Cynthia wouldn't leave until I told her that I would make sure it was clean. She never liked a single thing out of place. Must have got it from her father, her mother was near the opposite."

"Do you know who the father is?" Greg wondered, raising an eyebrow in question.

She shook her head, sniffing as she closed her eyes. "It never came up. I assumed he was dead, or at the very least departed…well, gone, but not dead…"

"I know what you mean, Mrs.-"

"Sally…everyone calls me Sally," she filled in, offering to shake his hand, but pausing as Greg indicated to his gloves. "I'm sorry," she whispered, nodding in understanding.

"You've already talked with one of our detectives," Greg told her, indicating towards the door. "It might be best for you to head home. One of the officers can take you."

"I have a car," she pointed out, moving to get her stuff.

"It'll have to stay for now," he explained. "It's a crime scene, and until we clear it…"

"You don't think I have something to do with this?"

Greg shook his head, giving her an apologetic smile. "No, I do not. But whoever did may have come in contact with your vehicle, or perhaps left something on the road that can be obscured by your car as well. Until we clear the scene and release everything it'll have to stay. It's procedure."

She was quiet for a moment, but then nodded, reaching for her purse. "I understand…and if you need any help I'll be more than glad to do whatever I can."

He let out a small smile, waiting until she had left the room before turning back to his work. It was already halfway into his shift and he had yet to even scratch the surface of the crime scene. With a weary sigh he realized the one and only thing that was certain; it was going to be a long night.

* * *

The sun was already setting as the Texan pulled off his sunglasses, double checking the address that was given to him. With the kit clutched tightly in his hand he made his way down the sidewalk, coming to a stop with a small frown as the loud jarring noises could be heard from afar. The sleek red car pulled to a stop, the music blaring for a moment longer before the engine was turned off. Somehow it didn't surprise Nick to see Jaysen come stepping from the car, and the Texan let out a small sigh. The last thing they needed was another Greg.

Nick smiled at the thought, resuming his pace to the front door. It had taken a few good years to knock some sense into the ex-lab rat. The wild, eccentric man always trying to best and beat everyone at something. He had been energetic, and outgoing, always ready to crack one joke or another.

True, in the past few years he had clamed down; partly due to all that had happened, but Nick knew that was also due to Sara. The pair worked out nearly perfect. Greg's enthusiasm for live was the drive she needed, and yet Sara's calm was what kept him from stepping over the boundaries. If they both weren't so stubborn or hot-headed they would indeed be a remarkable pair, but Nick guessed that only fueled the need to be together.

He had once admired Sara's passion, her quiet, yet strong outlook and demand, and of course her beauty. Nick knew that he could joke with her in a way he could with no one else, and that was what he truly enjoyed. In the end he had lost her, but Nick hadn't taken it personally…at least he knew she was in good hands with Greg.

Reaching the door he pushed the button on the side, hearing the dull sound echo throughout the inside of the house. "Michael Walters, LVPD, are you home?"

"Not starting the party without me, were you?"

Nick resisted the urge to roll his eyes as the younger man came up next to him, panting from the long run. The house sat some ways from the road, the front door actually to one side under a makeshift awning. Aside from a dreary outside appearance, the house seemed to be well kept.

"Wouldn't think of it," the Texan muttered in response, trying the doorbell once again.

"Good, because you know I am here for your protection," Jaysen let out a sigh, straightening up as his hands rested on the small of his back, doing his best to catch his breath. "What do we have?"

"Michael Walters, last known boyfriend of our female vic. Phone records indicate they talked for five minutes yesterday around noon. The victim has no known family, but the principal stated he was Cynthia's emergency contact if anything happened. According to the principal, Michael Walters' name was removed from the card about two weeks ago with no reason. The mother just wanted it gone."

"So you think he's responsible then?"

"We don't know," Nick stated quietly, grumbling inwardly as he called out again to the supposed occupant of the house. "All we're here to do is ask some questions. Surely Brass updated you."

"He was too busy with that Sara chick," Jaysen responded, "who by the way is amazing. You should get a load of her."

"Excuse me?" Nick turned to him sharply, frowning.

"She is one hot piece of meat, if you know what I mean, male to male."

"Here's from me to you," Nick rebuffed him lightly, "First off Sara isn't a piece of meat, or any other selection of food. Secondly, she's unavailable, so back off."

He could hear the younger man snort in distaste, "Who would have guessed," he remarked crisply. "You and her. Somehow I just can't imagine it."

"Not that it is any of your business, but she and I aren't dating. It's her and Greg, so just back off man."

Jaysen laughed briskly, shaking his head. "And I thought the two of you made a sad pair, they have like nothing in common."

"Don't make me hurt you," Nick threatened, pushing the doorbell another time as he grumbled quietly. He desperately needed a distraction before he did something that he would regret.

"Why don't we just go inside," Jaysen wondered mildly, reaching for the knob. Nick was quick in grabbing his wrist, stopping him.

"We don't have a warrant. We can't just go sauntering in because we feel like it."

"We're the police," Jaysen griped, pulling free from his grasp. "Besides, the door's ajar. Now we no longer need a warrant."

"The scene hasn't been cleared," Nick argued, protesting as the other man nudged his way in. "You're not authorized to clear one either."

"What's so hard about it?" Jaysen asked smugly, one foot already inside the house. He had pulled his gun free, readying it to fire if needed as he continued inside. "All I have to do is wave this thing around and our killer will drop to his knees begging."

"If he is our killer then that means he's already taken two lives. If he can take a little girl's life without remorse, what do you think will make him consider not shooting you?"

"Come on Nicky," the man laughed, turning back to him. "Don't tell me you're afraid."

"You can compromise the entire case by doing this," Nick warned, staying well clear of the door. If he could just convince the naïve detective to venture back outside all he would have to do was file a report on an accidental entrance; no one would have to know the details, and if they were lucky, nothing would be excluded in court.

"If you say so," Jaysen remarked gruffly, rolling his eyes as he continued around the corner. Nick huffed, coming up with the last possible reason.

"We don't even have back-up. You don't know what's in there."

"You can be my back-up," the man responded from inside. "Make yourself feel important."

With a slight scowl he turned away, glancing down the street as the sun began to set. He couldn't just let him go in alone, knowing far too great of the possible dangers. If something happened to him the blame would rest on Nick's shoulders, and his shoulders alone. However, by proceeding into the house after him, he would only garner more trouble for himself.

Jaysen wouldn't be to blame. He was a rookie, and that alone would get him off for this mistake, however large it was to be. Yet for Nick, who knew well of what was and was not allowed, it could possible lose him his job. And at the same time, by not acting, he was risking the very same thing, but with greater results.

With a sickening groan he readied his own gun, knowing that either way he would be screwed in the end. At least this way his conscience would be clear, and with a steadying breath he pushed his way in, prepared, hopefully, for whatever he would find.

**TBC**


	4. Frustrations

**Chapter Four: Frustrations **

Jim Brass was a relatively smart man; he was also a relatively calm man…most of the times. Right now was definitely one of those times. At the same time Nick couldn't help but agree with detective's ceaseless criticisms; the Texan knew that what he had done was wrong. The only satisfaction he had in it was that the rookie detective was going down with him.

Nick blamed Jaysen for everything, yet the only reason they weren't on immediate suspension was of what they had found. Their one and only suspect, the ex-boyfriend Michael Walters, bleeding to death on the floor of his very living room. Jaysen still claimed he had been in the right, and even now stood irately as Brass continued the tense lecture, the youth sighing from time to time.

Nick shook his head a little, tuning out the other man as his eyes caught sight of their suspect being wheeled out to the waiting aid car. It was remarkable, knowing that they alone had been at the scene for well over an hour now, and that their suspect turned victim was just getting the medical treatment required. He was their only lead as of now, if he wasn't able to talk the case would be at a standstill until evidence was processed.

It had been a hard decision on Nick's part, the Texan knowing that either way he would end up in trouble, and he had made it well known that it had been all in all the rookie's idea to venture inside. Jaysen had brushed it off lightly, stating that his actions had been justified; his belief was that Michael Walters would have been deceased if they had waited as instructed.

In front of him Brass came to a stop, pinching the bridge of his nose as he took a moment to breathe calmly. It was the first time in nearly twenty minutes the detective had not been yelling. With a frustrated sigh the man turned back towards them, hands crossing his chest. "Both of you report back to the lab, and it is in the lab you'll stay until I figure out what I'm going to have to do."

"Lab work?" Jaysen huffed, raising an eye brow, "You mean guppy work?"

"Don't push it," Brass warned haughtily, turning sharply on his heel as he left.

Next to him Jaysen scowled, glaring at the Texan angrily. "This is all your fault, you know. Thanks to you I'm going to be stuck pushing paperwork for the rest of my life."

"My fault?" Nick asked incredulously, mouth hanging open. "How is it my fault? You're the one that went into the house without clearance!"

"You called the big boys in," Jaysen responded, thumbing over his shoulder to where Brass stood with several other officers talking quietly. "Neither of us would have gotten in trouble if you had just let me do my job."

"I followed procedure," Nick replied angrily, doing his best to keep his calm. He was now, more than ever, ready to tear this man limb from limb. Because of him he not only was removed from the case, but now placed on probation which required him to remain in the lab. And to add further insult, he continued to act as though this entire mess was the Texan's fault. It was more than infuriating, and it wasn't something he was going to take.

* * *

Greg pulled off his sunglasses as he ducked under the yellow tape, taking the time to tuck them in the pocket of his vest. The sun was nearly down already, and Greg found it hard to believe that he was just starting another scene. It would be another eight hours before he even thought about going home. It seemed as though the entire neighborhood was pressed around the house, Greg scanning the scene to pick out anyone from the school earlier that day. It would ring a clear bell if there was; some suspects preferred to stay behind and watch the scene unfold.

He nodded to the blonde as he entered the house, moving past the officers that patrolled just inside. Greg had just barely caught wind of what had transpired a few hours before with Nick and the new rookie, and despite the fact they more in likely would not be able to use any evidence found in court, it didn't excuse them from their job. There was two dead, and one severely injured, and at the moment no one was certain he would even make it. It was a bitter fate, but in the end nothing could be changed aside from the fact of placing the one responsible behind bars.

Catherine smiled at him weakly, setting her camera down on her case as he approached. She raised an eyebrow as she asked the pressing question. "Double?"

Greg nodded, letting out a small chuckle as he moved around her, surveying the bloody mess that had been left behind after their latest vic was transported out of the house. "Third straight night," he confirmed.

"Ever think about talking Grissom into giving you a break?"

Greg shook his head, although he knew he had tried already. It just wasn't a question of ability right now. He knew everyone else was working the same hours as he was, sometimes more. "I was the only one available," he stated.

"What about Sara?" Catherine wondered, now balancing on her heels as she knelt down to cut away bits of the blood-stained carpet. "I heard she wasn't busy."

"Grissom sent her home," Greg let out a soft smile, taking in that small comfort knowing she was on her way to get some rest. He knew full well how exhausted she was. "She's already worked a double, Griss wouldn't' let her do a triple in the same night."

"Ah," she nodded, a bit more humor in her voice then Greg had expected. "So, when are you two tying the knot?"

Greg had turned, forgetting momentarily what he was doing to stare at the blonde. "What?" She couldn't possibly know, he hadn't told anyone about it, not even his parents. He watched as Catherine raised her hand, wiggling her fingers in indication.

"I just figured with how close you two were getting," she shrugged. "It's been what, a couple of years now since you've been living together?"

He shrugged it off, suddenly feeling the need to not talk about it. "We're just...just trying to get through things right now. I mean, money's tight, even with both of our incomes we're still paying off a lot of medical stuff. Work only covers so much, and with everything that's happened...I guess we're just trying to have a normal life. It's just never come up."

"Have you thought about it?"

Greg shifted uncomfortably, taking the moment to consider it. For so long he had wanted someone to talk to about it, but he never had dreamed about telling Catherine. He was too afraid that she would slip up, and tell someone else, and it would eventually work its way back to Sara. That was the last resort to how he wanted Sara to find out. After a brief moment he shook his head, muttering quietly under his breath before answering.

"Not really...at least not now."

She gave him a weak smile, moving to her feet as she bagged the fresh evidence. "Just give it some time. It'll work out, you'll see."

Greg gave her a smile, but sighed inside with relief, hoping she'd drop it all together. He wanted to be with her, wanted to spend the rest of their lives together, but he was too afraid to even ask…to afraid of being rejected. Greg gulped quietly, wishing the topic had never come up. Now he would never be able to concentrate on work.

He jumped as his cell buzzed, forgetting that he had set it to vibrate before placing it in his pocket. Ignoring Catherine's amused look he fished it out, accepting the call even before checking the caller ID.

"_Greg?"_

He smiled, simply happy to hear his girlfriend's voice on the other line. So much that he had missed the strained tone.

"Hey, what's up?"

"_Did you lock our door this morning?"_

He frowned, setting his flashlight down as he worked his case free with one hand. "I think I did. Why do you ask?"

"_It was open when I got home."_

Greg shook his head, doing his best to remember. He put aside his feeling for the moment, knowing that she was worried and beyond stressed. The last thing she needed was this. "I…I swear that I did…you mean unlocked, or actually standing open?"

"_The door was standing completely open," she breathed, "not even close to being closed."_

"Robbed?" Greg wondered, "Is there anything missing?"

"_No…not that I can see anyways. It doesn't look like it was a forced entry, so I thought the windows maybe…"_

"Sara, we're on the third floor. Besides our window's jammed, it doesn't open, remember?"

"_I know," she groaned, "I know. I just…I want to know what's going on. The fact that someone could have been in here…and this dump doesn't have security cameras on the higher floors, just the bottom level."_

"We don't know if someone was in there," Greg told her patiently. "I guess I didn't latch the door good enough. You know how things are; the door needs an extra pull sometimes."

He heard her sigh, which was a good sign, it meant she was giving in.

"_I guess you're right…I'm sorry, I'm just…I'm exhausted. You're still working, and I don't need to bother you with this right now. I just have an overactive imagination."_

"It's not," Greg reassured her, "If you're worried we'll file a report, talk to Brass. Let him know to keep a heads up."

"_No…no, nothing's missing, and I don't think…I don't think anyone's been in here, the place isn't a mess…well, no more than it usually is. I think we're okay, I'm just being paranoid."_

Greg sighed inwardly, wanting to say something, or do something. He wondered if he should just go ahead and call Brass himself, or perhaps just talk to the man later on about it, but decided that it wouldn't be for the best. The man would want to investigate, and that meant he and Sara would have to find somewhere else to live while others pawed through their personal lives. He was having a hard enough time keeping things private as it was now, he didn't need to openly invite others in.

Besides, Sara wasn't too concerned, she herself not wanting to get authorities involved, so why then, would he? They lived in a relatively good neighborhood despite the name of Sin City being around them. Greg had lived most of his past years there, having no qualms even up till now.

Their call ended there, Greg saying his short goodbyes as he avoided Catherine's curious gaze. He knew she would want to know, and at the same time demand that the two of them talked to someone, and he ran a list of possible things to tell her when she did ask, but in the end came up with nothing. Instead he let out a sigh, briefly explaining things as he put his phone away, insisting that it was a mere accident of a faulty door.

He could tell Catherine was not impressed, but he wasn't too concerned. Impressing Catherine wasn't on his list of things to do, especially tonight. He wanted to finish the scene, log the evidence in, and head home. He could worry about playing favorites later.

**TBC**


	5. From the Past

**Bit of a longer update here. This chapter has reference from 'Cold as Ice' so for those of you who haven't read that, you might want to go do that now. Although I would be slightly curious to why you're reading the fourth in a series if you have yet to read the second. **

**Thanks goes out to Jenny for her help and to Kegel for the beta. **

* * *

**Chapter Five: From the Past**

He rubbed his eyes briefly before letting out a yawn, glancing from the screen towards the hallway to see if there was anyone around. As far as he knew, Catherine as well as Warrick had headed out; Nick, he assumed, was gone as well, which left only him and possibly Grissom from the night shift. Then again Grissom hardly counted; Greg doubted the man even had a home.

Greg rubbed his temples turning back to the screen. The surveillance footage from their primary crime scene had come in over three hours ago, and Greg had been doing nothing else since. Even though the footage failed to catch the front side of the building, focusing on school grounds and corridors more, Greg was adamant in finding a lead through the footage. After all, Michael Walters was still a prime suspect, even if he was found nearly dead in his own place.

It was a long shot, but still a possibility that Walters had murdered his girlfriend and her daughter, only to be caught in the sinful act and followed by someone else, who then proceeded to return the favor to him. Last Greg had heard, the man was still in surgery. They would be lucky to get a statement from him as well. Even still, if he was the culprit, it wasn't likely he'd pop up and out rightly admit to doing it. What Greg was hoping for, was to catching him on school grounds. If he was there at, or even around the estimated TOD, it would be firm building block for an accusation.

He yawned again, doing his best to stay concentrated on the task at hand. It wouldn't benefit anyone if he fell asleep right here and now. But he was exhausted, and possibly beyond that. The case had been bumped up to a higher priority as well, somehow information had leaked, the press gobbling it up in record time. The one thing Ecklie hated was the press. Not that they enjoyed it anymore either. It just made their work that much harder.

It was the only case Nights were working on, the Day shift taking two other 419's and one B&E to clear them out of the way. He knew the others were tired, they had already worked longer than him, and they deserved their time off, but still Greg envied them, wanting nothing more than his warm bed, and Sara, of course.

With the thought of Sara he sighed. He was worried about her, worried not only because of what she had found, but worried because he knew she would stress over it. She had been running off pure steam for the last few days now, and Greg knew she wouldn't last much longer. He knew the lack of sleep was getting to her. Often she was moody; sometimes it lasted a few mere minutes, and others, depending on how tired she was, lasted for hours and even once, several days.

It just wasn't her mood that was affected. Not only was she loosing weight, but just the previous week, she had come down with the flu. Greg had kept her in bed, despite her verbal protests, and had even stayed home in order to keep an eye on her. He knew it was a change for her; she hardly talked of her previous relationships, but it was obvious even then she stood on her own two feet. Perhaps that was the reason why she was so eager to overdo everything at work.

Greg sighed, wondering if he should let up some, and allow Sara to go at her own pace. Yet at other times, he feared he wasn't doing enough. He didn't want to lose her; he couldn't even begin to think of life without her. But it scared him, knowing that many of their trials started because of him. What would happen if Sara actually pinned all of that against him, and used that as an excuse to leave?

He shuddered, shaking his head as he sat up in the chair, watching the nameless faces walk through the corridors. Many of them were students, a few were teachers, but it wasn't anything out of the ordinary. Everyone looked as though they belonged. This meant that they would soon be reviewing it again when they came up with a new lead.

"You're still here?"

Greg muttered something, more in likely promoting his stress as he rubbed his head as he glanced up at the Texan. "You're still here too," he pointed out gruffly, his words coming out harsher than he first intended.

"I actually went home," Nick argued with a smirk, coming to glance over his shoulder. "How long have you been reviewing this?"

"I lost track," Greg muttered dryly. "The system's not very advanced, nor is it all that clean. Equipment has to be cheap, I can't do much focusing, at least not better than this," he held up a hand, motioning towards the screen.

"Did you check times around the TOD?"

Greg nodded, gritting his teeth slightly. That alone was basic procedure…Nick knew that, so why exactly was he asking? Still he answered, "Nothing…quiet, most kids were in class, I have some footage of Cynthia, but none of her mother. And none of it's out of the ordinary."

Nick nodded, remaining quiet for several minutes as both the men watched the footage as it streamed by. Finally Nick broke the silence. "I'll take over, you go on and head home, get what rest you can."

"You're just as tired as I am," Greg argued, not quite willing to leave. He did want to go, by all means he did want to. Yet at the same time he wasn't willing to dump everything on someone's else's shoulders, especially someone he considered a friend.

"I slept Greg," Nick pointed out, "Besides, it's not like there's much else I can do."

"Yeah," Greg chuckled softly. "I heard about you and that new kid…Jaysen, right?"

Nick scowled softly with the remembrance, grimacing. "He's an idiot in training, thinks he knows everything and completely clueless that he knows nothing."

"I think I've heard that before," Greg commented, rubbing his eyes again.

"I'll bet you have," Nick laughed, talking over Greg's audible yawn. "Go on man, I have it."

The both of them glanced up when there was a knock on the open door, the young detective standing there in the doorway. She cleared her throat before she started speaking. "Greg?"

"That depends on who's asking," he responded, earning a short laugh from Nick who sat beside him.

"Carla," she nodded towards him, slipping inside. "Otherwise known as the messenger girl. PA's down at the moment, but someone's waiting for you in the lobby." She was next to him now, watching the footage as it continued to stream on.

"Any idea who?" Greg queried, arms crossing over his chest as he leaned back in his chair. He was disappointed to see her shake her head, partially because he never really felt like sticking around longer. Even more so, if it happened to be a reporter, he definitely didn't want to go, on the other hand, if it was someone important, pertaining to the lab or even the current case, he couldn't exactly just skip out.

"He really didn't give a name, just said he was an old friend," Carla explained shortly, shrugging her shoulders.

Nick nudged him on the shoulder, giving him a slight push towards the door. "Go on and see who it is; go home afterwards, get some rest."

With a sigh Greg willingly gave in, sliding out of his seat and stretching briefly as he stood, his muscles starting to cramp after sitting so long. Walking down the hallway he edged around the corner carefully, hoping to maybe catch a glimpse of this 'supposed' friend. He could, hopefully, avoid them if necessary. He wasn't in the mood to face off another horde of questions.

It had taken him a long time to 'forget' all that had happened. In the end, he never really did, but it was enough for him to survive. Sara had helped out quite a bit. Greg was surprised that she had even come back to him, that she had wanted to stay. He could never describe the feelings that coursed through him as he held her close, listening to her breathe, and realize how close he had come to never hearing that again.

The last thing he wanted though, was to describe to some stranger about how he felt, and watch as it spread throughout the state. His life was no longer private, not by far; Greg wasn't a fool. He knew how the world worked, he knew the media was a predator, and at the moment, he was their prey. That alone was indicated by the amount of contact he obtained between them, on and off the cases he worked.

Still he smiled when seeing the old man, and slipped from around the corner, grinning as the other saw him. It had been a while since their last meeting, but that didn't mean Greg had forgotten. He stood there shyly at first, unsure of whether this greeting required a handshake, or if a simple hand gesture would do.

At first glance one would not notice the difference from anyone else, the man had adapted to his loss quite well in Greg's opinion. He supposed it wasn't much different from Robbins' situation, but then again it hadn't been too entirely long since Randolph had lost his leg.

With one hand on the supporting cane Randolph reached up with the other, breaking the momentary awkwardness by shaking his hand. Greg smiled and nodded in return, both grateful and curious to why the man was visiting. "It's been a while."

The old man nodded, smiling as he glanced around the lobby there. "Yes it has, amazing how time goes by so quickly, isn't it? And yet it almost feels like you and Sara were working away with Candi just yesterday."

Greg smiled at the comment, knowing that in the back of his mind it felt much as the same way. Still, it had been years since he and Sara had attended the seminar, and while there they had learned a great deal more than just basics forensics. Greg owed a great deal of respect to Randolph, for more than one reason. Even in the highest amount of doubt it was Randolph that had trusted him, and even played a part in saving his life, as well as Sara's. If anything, the two owed a sort of debt to him, even though Randolph wasn't the type of man who would accept such a thing.

"How is he?" Greg wondered quietly, knowing the last time he had heard of the youth's condition it hadn't been all that good. He could see the surprise and confusion etched on the old detective's face and Greg couldn't help but smile as he clarified himself. "Candi, how is he doing?"

Randolph chuckled at that, nodding down the hallway. "Why don't you ask him for yourself?"

Greg laughed as well, watching now as the young man followed several of the dayshift members down the hallway, his perpetual chatter echoing through the normally semi-quiet hall. "I thought you were retired, or going to at least."

"I am," he answered in return, "One bum leg and several years too many. No one wants an aging man such as myself, but I couldn't leave kid to his own defenses. Not until I find someone I trust. His mother's left town, headed across seas somewhere with her latest boyfriend and his father doesn't talk to him anymore, just sends money his way every so often to help with costs of everyday living. Not to mention I've grown kind of fond of him, kid kind of grows on you after a few years."

Greg smiled, nodding as well. He and Sara hadn't spent a lot of time with the clueless youth, but he had a certain edge that you couldn't just ignore. It was great to see that there seemed to be no lasting effects from the incident, Greg knowing full well the dangers and associated pain from second and third degree burns. He knew that even if there were no physical scars, emotional ones still hung deep.

"I highly doubt that you just stopped by to say hi," Greg commented quietly. "Denver's not exactly around the corner."

"Chicago now," Randolph admitted, "At the moment Candi and I are sort of touring. When I said I was retired I should have been a little more forward with you. I don't do detective work, but I still help at conventions, classes, speak at some colleges. It's not a dream job, and the money isn't great, most of it goes to travel, but it's better than sitting in a retirement home. Plus it gets the kid out, he's seen quite a bit for his age. Maybe he'll come across something he actually enjoys doing and can remember how to do it," he added with a small chuckle.

"But you're right, I didn't come out all this way just to say hi. I was hoping to catch both you and Sara."

"She's home," Greg nodded, wishing suddenly that he was as well. It wasn't that he didn't enjoy the unexpected company, but he was tired, and his worry over Sara had yet to diminish. He knew he would feel better once he was at home, with Sara wrapped in his arms. "Maybe we could meet for breakfast tomorrow or something?"

He was slightly disappointed to see Randolph shake his head. He knew Sara would want a chance to talk with the man, but he wasn't wiling to call her now, afraid of waking her from her sleep. Greg knew she desperately needed it.

"Candi and I are expected in Florida by noon tomorrow. I just wanted to come by and warn you so that you two were caught up with everything. I'll trust you'll tell Sara?"

Greg nodded, his brow furrowing in confusion at the same time. "Warn us about what?"

"Tom's going to be released at the end of this week."

"You're kidding," Greg cursed lightly under his breath, shaking his head. "It's only been, what? A couple of years? They told us he'd be there at least five."

"According to doctors he's well in mental capabilities, at least well enough to where he doesn't need to be in the asylum. He'll still be required to see a therapist three times a week, and undergo a psychological examination monthly for the first six months to ensure he's doing okay."

"Do we need to get RO's or anything?" Greg asked quietly, wondering if he was being overly-paranoid, or if he was just being reasonable.

"I don't think you two will have any problems," Randolph admitted quietly. "You weren't personal targets in the first place, just wrong place wrong time. He doesn't have any real grudges to hold against you. I just felt you deserved to know, considering all that he's done to you and Sara."

"And you," Greg pointed out bitterly. Randolph had nearly lost his life due to the once-crazed CSI. Sure, the man had kidnapped Greg, but it was Randolph that had taken the most serious blow.

"I'll be fine," the old detective stated quietly. It left Greg frowning.

"You knew him a long time."

He nodded. "We were friends once, perhaps would still be if he hadn't gotten so jealous and blown a fuse. Tom and I go way back, we were friends before we started working at the conventions."

"Do you think he's crazy?"

"Anyone can turn crazy at anytime for any reason," Randolph stated. "Sometimes it's bottled up inside until it finds a leak. After that there's no stopping it. For others, it just takes a big dose of reality to realize how screwed up the world can be. It's easier, sometimes, to live crazy than struggle to stay sane."

"You don't actually believe that, do you?" Greg wondered, the sudden turn in the conversation catching him off guard.

Randolph shrugged, glancing down the hallway. "Look at Candi. The boy has no idea what's going on half the time, and yet he couldn't be happier. We sane people take life too seriously, and in the end we normally mess things up. I had plenty of years left in me, for field work, and I let my guard down because I assumed it was safe. I can't take that mistake back now. Can you honestly tell me there's nothing you've done that you've wished you could take back or change?"

Greg sighed, seeing his point then and there. He could think of a few things right off the start, but he wasn't willing to discuss them with the man. It wasn't a question of trust, but instead of time. Greg didn't have the world to explain his life story to Randolph, and somehow he doubted the detective would want to hear about it either. Instead he nodded as an answer, quietly thanking him.

Randolph smiled, clearing his throat as he shifted, leaning more on the cane than on his good leg. "Our flight leaves in four hours, we should probably be headed towards the airport. It takes twice as long to get through everything with Candi. He loves the airport, but hates flying."

"Odd combination," Greg chuckled quietly, reaching out to shake his hand as they said their goodbyes. Greg had offered to take them to the airport, not pressing when they turned it down. Honestly Greg wasn't sure if he could stay awake long enough to do so, and then return home afterwards. In fact, he was certain that if he didn't head out soon, he would have to take a taxi for fear of falling asleep on the way.

He smiled to himself, watching as the pair walked out of the lab. He knew that Sara and he had always talked about meeting up with the kind detective again, but talk of that had diminished shortly after Greg had lost his memory. And even when he gained it back, the past hardly came up. Greg knew it was because Sara was afraid, perhaps of hitting a chord or bringing up something he wouldn't be able to remember.

Greg would be the first to admit, he didn't remember everything. He couldn't…often he found himself at loss when she or someone else from the lab began talking about something. It wouldn't be until later, in the comfort of their own apartment, that Greg would ask Sara, and she would do her best to explain. Sometimes it would spark something, and others there was just nothing. Greg was grateful that he could remember this easily enough on his own.

**TBC**


	6. What You Don’t Know

**Sorry for the extremely long wait in updating. It's been hard in between both jobs and real life to do much writing. I am getting a little bit of a break coming up, so I'm hoping to be writing more. The next chapter has already been started, and I'm hoping to have it up much sooner than this one was. Thank you to everyone for being so patient, and for all of those still reading this.**

**I love feedback, so don't be shy; it helps me to become a better writer :)**

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**Chapter Six: What You Don't Know**

It wasn't supposed to be like this. When Greg left the crime lab, he had nothing more planned than a hot shower, followed by a date with his pillow. He hadn't expected to arrive at his apartment complex to find it swarming with cops, CSI's and none other than Ecklie, the leader of the days himself.

The commotion was taking place on the far side of the building; Greg knew that he could, and should avoid the hectic scene as much as possible. But curiosity had the better of him. And it wasn't long before Ecklie had him turned around and headed back into work; yet this time for an entirely different matter.

It hadn't taken Greg long to pick Sara up. She had been awake, sitting in the old worn easy chair that had been passed down through his family. Sara had always joked about getting rid of it, but Greg had never taken any of her threats seriously. After all, it was the one place he could always find her whenever she couldn't sleep. Except for this time there was no need to ask what was keeping her up. She was already dressed, pausing long enough to slip on her shoes, and within minutes they found themselves back on the road.

They sat quietly now, side by side in the waiting room, just past the receptionist office. Brass had offered for them to stay in the break room, but neither had accepted. Sara hadn't said a word, and Greg's focus was on nothing other than his girlfriend, and the obvious worry that clung to her like a heavy cloud filled with rain. She had barely even looked at him, and her eyes were dim, her gaze withdrawn, and it was all Greg could do to keep from pulling her into a hug, afraid that if he did, he just might break her.

He could only wonder, only imagine what could possibly be going through her head. After all he had promised her that everything was fine. They lived in a safe enough place, right? No one would have tried to break in…there were plenty of other apartments, ones more readily accessible than their own. Not only that, but there were others that flaunted and gabbed about their so-called priceless possessions; flat screen TVs, gaming systems, the latest surround systems. Any thief would have been after that without a doubt. What it came down to was the simple fact that they had nothing worth stealing.

Unless they had a certain something someone wanted. Greg's mind unwillingly drifted to what Randolph had told him earlier. Randolph had seemed almost certain that they would be safe, but even so it could be possible that Tom still held a grudge against them. Save for a fact he still had till Friday before his release. Greg closed his eyes, letting out a bitter sigh. That of course crossed that idea off the list.

He could feel Sara grip his hand, and Greg opened his eyes to meet her worried stare. "What is it?" she asked breathlessly.

For a brief moment he started to answer her, then forced himself to stop, shaking his head instead. He knew Sara deserved to know about Tom. Even if Greg was one who had been hurt the most in the end, the man still had harmed Sara, had still threatened her. He was just as much involved in her past as he was in Greg's. But Greg also knew that now wasn't the best time to talk about it.

She ran the back of her hand along his face, turning so her fingertips grazed his chin. "What's wrong?"

Her voice was strained, and he couldn't tell if it was due to her worry, or just plain exhaustion, or both perhaps, but he forced a smile, shaking his head. Later….he would tell her later.

"Just thinking," he whispered, reaching up to meet her wandering hand. "Just thinking."

"I've been thinking too," Sara responded, her eyes flicking back towards the door. She had waited until the hallway emptied one more before turning back towards Greg. "I can't believe that I was so worried about the possibility someone was in our place…"

"I was worried too," Greg cut her off, not wanting her to feel as though she had been overreacting. If it had been him, Greg more in likely would have phoned Brass straight off. "It's a violation of privacy. There's no reason you shouldn't feel worried."

"A woman's in the hospital Greg," she shook her head. "Our neighbor…someone who lives just on the other side of the complex was attacked…her entire place ransacked. We have no right to feel…what you said…violated. Nothing happened to us…they didn't even take anything from our apartment."

"That doesn't matter," Greg counted quickly. "What happened to Jessie was horrible, you're right about that. What they did to her place, the things they took; that only shows how much more heartless they are. Don't blame yourself for being upset, or worried, or scared even. That is still your right."

"They're saying she might not make it," Sara whispered, obvious now that she hadn't been listening. There were tears forming in her eyes and it worried Greg. Worried him because he knew it took more than just this to upset her. Worried him because if she broke down now…he wouldn't be able to carry her weight.

He hated to admit it; he was scared. Terrified; someone had taken a knife to the young woman; only a few years younger than Sara herself. Jessie had lived alone, and like Sara, had been fairly independent. The attack had nearly killed her, and even now the young woman was fighting for her life. Still…the only thing Greg could think over and over was that it had been her…and not Sara. And he hated himself for it.

He needed Sara to tell him he was wrong. He needed to her hear say that it would be okay. In his mind he knew this much, but he needed to hear it in her own words. Even if he didn't hear it right now that was all right. He could wait…but Greg knew that if she started crying now, then they would only drown in their tears.

His finger rested on her chin, and he tilted her face towards his, their lips locking tentatively. He could feel her pull away at first, but just as he was letting her go she returned, and he felt himself melt into her warm embrace. They broke apart after only a few mere seconds, Sara moving to rest her head against his shoulder, her arms wrapping around his neck.

Greg rubbed her back, holding her firmly in his grasp as they waited. He was hoping that they statements would already be taken by now. Ecklie and his team were going to dust and photograph their apartment while they waited, and there was no doubt in Greg's mind that they would be finished by now. The team at the very least; it would surprise Greg if Ecklie had stayed around to snoop a little.

He closed his eyes, letting out a soft sigh. Normally it would have bothered him, but for some reason Greg couldn't help feel but a little smug. The man, after all, had been doing his best to find something to oust either him or Sara for the last several years. Now he had more than a perfect opportunity to find a reason, but Greg knew they had nothing to hide.

Greg didn't even bother to glance up when Brass appeared in the doorway. He knew that the questions were standard procedure in a case like this. No one would think of them as suspects, or even accomplices, but they had still been connected. They still knew the victim, and even more so, there place had been broken in to. It wasn't for certain, but coincidence was all too high.

It wasn't until Brass touched his shoulder that Sara pulled away, and the detective nodded to the both of them, taking a seat across from them. There was a grim look on his face, and he tried with little success to wash it away with a smile. "We'll make this short and sweet," he told them both, pulling the tape recorder from his pocket.

Greg glanced at Sara who nodded; her eyes now clear, with no traces of worry etching her face. He could only smile, grateful to see the strong-willed woman he knew sitting next to him now. Even still her fingers sought out his hand, and he clasped it gently, nodding towards Brass as well.

With a click of the button, the questions began.

* * *

"You know," Greg muttered quietly, "we can stay somewhere else."

"This is fine," Sara answered back, her voice steady and unmatched. The earlier shakiness had worn off and Greg wasn't sure if it was because she was indeed doing better, or just wanting to portray it that way. He longed to ask her, longed to know for sure, but at the same time he didn't want to start a fight. Instead he just listened, not ready to offer up an argument. If Sara felt comfortable with staying here, then so did he.

Here being their own apartment. The place was as different as night and day; earlier it had been a living nightmare, jammed with so many people you couldn't even move. Now it was just empty. Remnants of the Crime Scene tape fluttered in the wind just off to the side of the young woman's apartment. The scene for now had been released, as had their place.

He waited for a moment before turning off the car, watching Sara who was glancing out the window uneasily, her eyes scanning the area as if she were expecting someone to show up. Greg cleared his throat, noting the way she flinched at the minute sound. "Are you sure you don't want to stay somewhere else? I know a good motel a few blocks away."

"We're not paying anything to stay in a cheesy dumpsite when we have a perfectly good, clean bed right here," Sara snapped angrily, "Nothing's going to happen, we're fine."

He held out his hands shrugging, offering up a truce. Greg knew that Sara was tense, and exhausted. Two deadly combinations at the moment. Sara hadn't much more to add to her last statement, and instead climbed out of the car, slamming the door with added effect. Greg followed at a much quieter and slower pace, giving her both the room as well as the time to blow off some much needed steam.

Their place was just as untouched as it had been the last time they set foot in it. Not exactly clean, but neither was it overly dirty. Somewhere along the line they had called a truce; Sara kept up with living and bed room, as well as the laundry, while Greg's responsibility covered the kitchen and bathroom. Between their hours, and motivation, they were able to keep the small place looking halfway decent. Of course that never meant they always had clean dishes or clothes.

Greg dropped his keys on the counter, moving to the fridge. There was some leftover pizza in there that he knew would still be good, and he was already pulling it out as well as a bottle of water. "How many do you want?"

"I'm not hungry," came her blatant reply, Sara pulling a hefty forensics book from the shelf. She sat down in the corner, in the same chair Greg had found her in earlier, and began rifling through the pages.

"You haven't eaten today," he reminded her, biting into one the slices, not bothering to even warm it up. "How many?"

"What part of 'I'm not hungry' don't you understand?"

"The same part of 'you haven't eaten' that you don't seem understand," Greg shot back, answering in between mouthfuls. "I don't know if you're on some sort of health craze or what, but you need to start eating again. I'm not going to let you waste away into nothing. Besides, this is this vegetarian primo thing you wanted. If I have to eat, then so do you."

"I just don't feel that great right now Greg," Sara said with a sigh, closing the book. "I think I might be coming down with something. Stomach flu's going around you know."

"If you wont eat then go get some sleep then," he prodded, finishing the slice he had. "And don't even try to tell me you're not tired either."

She made a face at him, holding herself back from making a more obscene gesture; he was right after all, and she knew it. Scowling she dropped the book on the coffee table, her expression softening as she approached him. "I am tired," she admitted softly, fingers lightly tracing his arm. She moved in to kiss him, soft in gentle, a striking comparison to her recent mood. "And I'm sorry, just because I am doesn't give me the right to be a bitch to you."

"You never are," Greg smiled, kissing her back. He lingered here for a moment longer, before pulling away. "Let's just say it's a fair trade for all the stress I've put you through."

"Really?" Sara smiled, "Well, I wouldn't trade any of it for anything in this world. There's a reason why I love you Greg…and sadly it has nothing to do with your charm, or your foul taste in music and clothes."

"I do not have foul taste in music or clothes," he defended himself, arms wrapped around her neck. She had her own around his waist, kissing his jaw before resting her head on his shoulder.

"That all depends on whose viewpoint you look at it from. It just so happens that my viewpoint is the right one."

"Since when did we decide that?" Greg asked, curious now. He could feel her laugh, and he pulled her closer, holding her tight. "We'll call it a fair trade," he continued softly. "Because I love you too, Sara."

**TBC**


	7. Questionable Answers

**Thanks for all the reviews! This is a bit later than I wanted, but much sooner than the last time, right? Reviews make the world go round, so don't be afraid to leave one!**

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**Chapter Seven: Questionable Answers **

He pressed his way through the semi-crowded hallway, unbuttoning the top of his shirt as he did so. For a brief moment he closed his eyes, shaking off the unwanted, yet overwhelming feeling that started to creep over him. This was neither the time nor the place to lose it.

"Greg, over here."

He glanced up, seeing the detective wave him over, and Greg moved towards him, sidestepping the others that were trying to get past. Soon enough he was shoulder to shoulder with the other man, the pair walking down the hallway.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," Brass commented dryly, studying him over with a keen eye.

"Just trying to forget some bad memories," Greg muttered quietly, swallowing as he tried to regain some composure. There was a reason why Grissom hadn't sent him to collect evidence at the hospital in a long while. The last time he had been here he had nearly lost it. This time there wasn't much of a difference. Yet Grissom had told him that he needed to get over his fears, and the only way to do that was to face the problem straight on. Greg wished quietly that there was another, easier way to get over it with.

"Funny," Brass mentioned, "I figured it would bring better memories. Considering the fact you wouldn't be alive without them."

"It's not so much of the fact of all the times I've been here…but how and why I ended up here," Greg explained, coming to a stop as Brass did so too. "Every time I come here…the sounds, the smells…everything seems to melt together, and that brings the memories. And they're not the best memories."

The other man nodded, still watching him as he did so. "Are you going to be able to handle this?"

Greg nodded without hesitation, even though he disputed it in his mind. He knew there would be someone else that could, and would willingly take his place if he chose to back down. Yet he knew it wasn't fair to always have someone cover for him. It was, as Sara said, over; there was nothing he had to worry about anymore. Why then, was he so afraid?

"I can call someone in," the detective offered, to which Greg declined almost immediately. He mustered a smile, lifting his case for show.

"I think I have it…I know I do." He turned to head on in, but the man stopped him by calling his name. Greg paused, his hand on the door to the room.

"You don't always have to pretend everything's alright, and you certainly don't have to put on an act. You have friends who are willing to help you out…hell, you have Sara. She's been by your side through thick and thin, no matter what you've put her through."

"What I've put her through?" Greg raised an eyebrow, still standing in the same spot he had been when Brass first stopped him. "What do mean by that?"

"Don't take offense to it," Brass told him curtly. "I was just referring to everything that's happened. I mean, first it was the kidnapping, and then all that trouble you two got into up in Oregon. Then you wrecked the car; I can honestly vouch that Sara went through Hell during all of that."

"And you think I didn't?" Greg snapped, his voice rising. He took a breath, calming himself and took a step closer to the detective, ignoring all the stares from around them. "Not only that, I'd like to be informed when all of the sudden everything became my fault."

"I wasn't trying to place any blame," Brass returned sharply, lowering his voice so anyone passing by wouldn't hear him. "But since you're so insistent, then yes, I think it's fair to blame you. The only reason Sara had to go to that seminar was because of the kidnapping. If she hadn't picked you up that night, she would have stopped at another store to get the items Grissom needed."

"Oh, and I suppose you're going to blame me for crashing," Greg stated quietly, putting on a false temperament. He wasn't as strong on the inside, and that scared him. After all he had blamed himself for a long while for everything they had gone through. Sara, as well as the others convinced him otherwise, but that didn't mean he never doubted himself. Late at night he would find himself waking from a dream, covered in a sheen of sweat and breathing with short, heavy gasps, his mind grasping at was real as he tried to forget what was not. He would spend the rest of the night in a false slumber, wondering what life would be like if things had gone differently that one night so long ago.

"We all know that couldn't have been avoided," Brass told him, and silently Greg let out a cry of relief. Finally they agreed on something; maybe now the man could see things from his point of view. But he didn't stop there.

"But things would have been a lot easier on Sara if you two weren't dating."

"Why are you doing this?" Greg wondered, swallowing as his voice nearly broke. "What have I done to you?"

"You're the one that accused me of trying to place blame," Brass reminded him. "If you're going to accuse me of doing it, then I certainly will. And I'm not going to be nice about it and lie like everyone else. I've heard what they've said when you're not around. I know how tired they were, and still are, covering hours for the two of you. The amount of money the departments lost, the amount of times Ecklie's tried to fire you both, only to have Grissom save the day. You were good once Greg, you were even better back in DNA. Now you can't work half the cases without having some sort of issue coming up and Sara…Sara's sick half the time. Maybe if she spent more time sleeping and taking care of herself instead of you she wouldn't be."

"I have a job to do," Greg cut him off, trembling now, either from rage or realization of the truth that now stung at him. He took a step back, hand resting on the door. "My life…is my concern; you can do me the favor and stay out of it."

"All I'm saying is that it's hard to do when you're consistently in it."

He pushed his way in, letting the door close behind him. Taking a few breaths he closed his eyes, shutting his mind to all the thoughts that were racing through it. He could do his job…just because he had a few breakdowns, or setbacks every once in a while didn't mean he wasn't capable. And Sara...half the time Sara ate or even slept was because of him. And she had to love him; his fingers rested on his pocket, the weight of the ring still inside. She must have…why else would she still be with him?

"Excuse me sir, are you okay?"

Greg opened his eyes, the thoughts still clogging his mind and he shook his head, as if hoping to help clear it. "Yeah…" he nodded slowly after a moment. "I was just…distracted."

He forced a smile at the nurse, nodding towards the bed. "How is he?"

"He'll live," she returned with a smile. "We're looking at some nerve damage, and he's lost a lot of blood. We recovered the bullets though, would you like them?"

Greg nodded, setting his case on the floor. "That would be nice. I also need his clothes he had on before, and any personal effects."

"I already have them bagged," she answered him with a smile. "I figured one of you would show up sooner or later; they're waiting on the table. Mr. Walters just came out of his second surgery about an hour ago. We weren't able to remove the second bullet until he built up some strength. He should be coherent enough for you to ask some questions."

"Has anyone come to see him?" he wondered, liking the fact that the nurse had been able to update him so readily. Usually getting any information from the staff at Desert Palms was in comparison with World War Three.

She shook her head sadly to this, offering up a smile of pity. "We get quite a few of these. A lot of people that come here moved to Vegas alone, they don't have much of a family history. We're lucky to even have emergency contacts half the time. But not in this case. Empty, just like most of his forms. Just had basic information, enough to get by on. You're the first person here other than a young woman who came to ask some questions, I believe you work with her, a Carla Raquel?"

"I do," Greg nodded, pulling on a pair of glove. It struck him as odd, wondering to why Carla had done the interview when Brass had been the one to meet him here. He was just starting to realize now the man hadn't' even given him an update; he would have to get his own statement to catch up to speed. "Thank you for help," he nodded towards, the woman smiling at him as she caught his cue to leave.

"If you need anything just use the call button. We'll be around, you can leave Mr. Walter's door open when you leave."

Greg smiled as she left, glancing up to the bed at their suspect turned victim. Their voices had been kept low before as to not disturb him, and Greg wondered if the man was even awake. He swallowed quietly, turning away to open his case, hanging the strap of his camera over his neck.

He remembered most of the time he spent in the hospital…most, not all. He would never remember some parts. He did remember the statements, the collections…even when he knew who it was, people he considered friends, he still had hated it. It made him feel vulnerable…made him feel….weak. The only reason he had been in the hospital in the first place was because of his inability to protect himself. Nick and Warrick would have never had that problem .Hell; even Catherine had been strong enough to do her own collection kit after being attacked a scene. She never even went to the doctors to be looked at.

And Sara…Greg blinked, casting his eyes to the side as he approached the bed. Sara never had any problems…not until that night…not until she had done him a favor…and it had only gotten worse the longer they remained together. He wondered blandly how much longer it would continue before everyone would see the pattern…and even more frightening, how much longer before something serious happened. Something serious like death?

Yet what he could he do? He loved Sara more than anything; leaving her would be just as painful as watching her die. But was it really fair for him to be selfish? Would it really help to let her go, or would it just hurt both of them more in the end? He could only wonder if she needed him, or in his twisted way of thinking he just assumed that, and in the end it really was the fact that he needed her more.

"I'm not getting any deader."

Greg blinked at the comment, his mouth hanging open slightly as he glanced up. "Huh?"

"If you're waiting for me to die I'm sorry to disappoint you. I don't plan on going anywhere anytime soon, especially not in that direction," the man told him gruffly, making his point firmly.

"Sorry," Greg apologized with a smile, at the same time berating himself mentally as he realized he was once again losing himself in his thoughts. He could understand now why Brass had questioned his ability. If he couldn't focus…nothing would get done. "I'm Greg Sanders from the Crime Lab, I'm here to ask you a few questions and take some photos and other personal evidence. It's going to help find out what happened and who did this to you."

It was the best he could muster. Not professional by any means, but working with Sara had taught him how to tap into sympathy, and feel concern with whoever had been harmed. It didn't matter at this point if he was both a suspect and a victim; someone had still taken matters in their own hands to teach a potentially deadly lesson. For now, just right now, he was a victim. No more, more less, until evidence said otherwise.

"I already answered questions," he replied, shifting in his bed. He let out a soft groan, head sinking back into the pillows. "I'm sore, and I'm tired. I'm not really in the mood for all of this."

"It won't take long I assure you, and you're cooperation will make things go even faster."

"All of you are the same. You don't understand the meaning of no."

"Well," Greg smiled at him, "If we always listened when someone told us no, half of the murderers in jail now would still be running free. You can start by telling me what happened."

"I can't do that," Walters replied grimly, brining a look of surprise to Greg's face. Most people were afraid to talk about what had happened to them…true, but very few out rightly refused.

"I can only tell you what I remember."

So this did make sense, Greg nodded as he brought the camera up to photograph the wound site. He had to admit, Michael Walters was certainly a different kind of man. "Start where you would like."

"I work hard Mr. Sanders…just like you do I am sure. Living on your own is never easy, especially in Vegas. The temptation to spend your hard-earned money is sometimes too much. I've gotten in trouble in the past before, but I've learned from errors. The funny thing is…you step away from trouble and it seems to come and find you."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I do my job, I come home. I have dinner in the microwave, sort through my mail while I watch some good ol' television, when someone knocks on my door. After that…I can't tell you what happened. All I remember thinking is 'I'm going to die'."

"Did you see your attacker?" Greg wondered, jotting a few notes down on the pad of paper he had with him.

"No…well, I did…but I don't remember anything. It's just kind of one big blur. I was hit with the door when it opened, and he added a few of his own punches. I didn't even know he had shot me until I came out of surgery."

"You know for a fact that it was a man?" Greg confirmed, glancing up at him.

"Not one hundred percent…but I've never met a chick that could hit like that."

Greg chuckled quietly, understanding the man's point. Walters was a fairly big man, near six foot and weighing in around 190 pounds. They were more in likely looking for a male, although he couldn't quite check off a female for this either. After all, the crime lab had always had its fair share of surprises. Greg had learned to never fully assume until the evidence allowed you to do so.

"Can you tell me about Anise Clearbrook?"

"What about her?"

"You two were dating, is that not correct?"

"As far as I knew we still were," he shot back, this time an edge on his voice. "I love Anise, just because we got into an argument doesn't mean we're breaking up. Stuff like this happens before. She's a single mom, she has her own views and opinions, and I have my own. We don't always agree, we argue, we separate until we cool down, then we talk it over. Every couple argues; and you know that, especially with your line of work. It's not abusive or destructive unless it's excessive."

"I understand," Greg nodded towards him. "But I'm curious, when was the last time you talked with her?"

He watched the man shrug, his eyes half closed. "I don't remember for sure. I called her, when was it, just the other day. We talked for a bit, but she sounded…not irritated, but distracted though. I didn't want to bother her, so we said our goodbyes, and she promised to call me later. Why all the questions about her? If she's asking after me I'd love to see her…I know she's not immediate family or anything, but I'm sure you can talk the hospital staff here into letting her come in, even if it's just for a little while."

Greg smiled grimly, turning away for the first time since starting the questioning. It was clear this man did not know what had transpired…and honestly, how could he? Michael Walters had been gunned down within the same time the mother and her child had been killed. Once they got a key timeline they'd be able to tell if it had happened before or after.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Walters," Greg started, mustering up as much compassion and empathy as he possibly could. "Anise was found dead a couple of days ago."

He had been taught from early on in his training that it was critical to gauge a person's action when delivering any kind of news. Everyone reacted differently, but more often than not, most people could not pass of being shocked very well. And in this case Greg was certain the man wasn't pretending.

"Dead?" Walters repeated, his voice catching. "How can that be…I mean who would do such a thing?"

"Did Clearbrook have any enemies, or anyone that would be willing to hurt her?"

"Gods no," Michael replied with a quiet sob. "I mean, she wasn't perfect, but she did her best. She did an honest days work, took care of little Cynthia…oh my God, how's Cynthia handling all of this? The poor child had it hard enough growing up without a father…and now to not have a mother…"

He locked eyes with Greg and the young CSI stood unmoving, his face conveying what the man feared. Then suddenly he began shaking his head violently. "No…it can't be…it just can't."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Walters, for your loss," Greg sympathized, watching as the other man tried to regain his composure.

"What kind of cold heartless beast would kill an innocent baby?"

"A murderer," Greg offered quietly, doing the best he could to stay calm himself. "That's why we, why I need your help. Anything that you can tell me, anything at all could help in catching whoever did this. Even if you don't think it's important, it could possibly be."

"Whatever you need," he sobbed quietly, his eyes closing. "Although I don't know much…if anything at all."

"Did Anise ever talk about any family other than Cynthia? A father perhaps…grandparents?"

"No," Michael shook his head, "She wasn't very forthcoming in that topic. Whenever I brought up family matters she shied away. I learned fairly quickly it was no-no topic."

"She have any outside friends, contacts…anyone you weren't familiar with?"

"Acquaintances, like people at the bank, supermarket…a few people around the city knew her by name…but she never spent time with anyone. She moved her not too long ago…nine months I believe. She was still new to the city…and she didn't get out much, being a single mother. Either was working or staying home with Cynthia."

"What about Cynthia, did she have friends?" Greg inquired, continuing to fill out the notepad.

"Schoolmates," he replied, "she was shy. I thought it was unusual, but I don't have any kids so how would I know for sure?"

Greg nodded, giving him a small smile. "Understandable; I want to thank you for your time, and cooperation. We may come back and ask some more questions as the case progresses."

"If it'll help," Walters nodded, his composure mostly regained but still on edge. "Both of those girls were beautiful…I hope you'll make the bastard that's responsible pay for this."

Greg nodded, making eye contact with the man then. "I promise you, I will do everything in my power to see that it happens."

**TBC**


	8. What One Has Done

**Chapter Eight: What One Has Done **

There was only one thing she knew for sure. Complete and utter fear. Here they were, out in the middle of nowhere. She was thoroughly soaked from the continuous torrential downpour, her hair plastered against her face, the drops of rain intermixing with her own tears, shielding her weakness from her captures. At least in one way.

Shivering and holding back sobs she pulled against the bonds, as if willing the thick rope to fray, or suddenly become untied. Pain exploded in her head as the blow, sharp and precise, connected with the back of her head, unleashing the sob she had so diligently held back. "Greg…"

She could see him, from where she knelt, her eyes roaming over his still form. His arms bound like hers, and like her, an unknown assailant stood guard. His chest, she could see, would rise and fall every so often, as if encouraging her, proving that he was still alive. Unconscious, Sara knowing that the beating he had sustained would cause him far too much pain to breathe normally if he was indeed awake. But he was alive. And that gave her hope.

Sara could only wonder why no one had come yet. A flash of lighting spread over the sky, and for a moment she could see the man looming over her, his face expressionless, almost hidden, and it was dark once again, the rain still falling. Her entire body was caked in mud, the ground beneath her soft, and she closed her eyes as the tears continued to fall.

It was her fault; she should have never listened to Greg. If she hadn't tried to escape…if she had just ignored him. Greg's life was now in danger…she wasn't sure how much more time they had, but when time was up, they would finish what they had started. She didn't fear for her own life though…it was Greg's life she was worried for.

Sara wasn't sure how much more he could handle. The beating, the injuries, and she certainly could not forget the icy chill that was beginning to creep over the land. Would he…could he handle the elements as well. Her eyes opened as she heard the gasping cry, her own heart tearing as she watched the assailant forced Greg into a sitting position, one hand twisted painfully in his hair.

Sara heard her own voice cry out above the noise even though she couldn't remember saying something. A knife was suddenly present, the blade resting against the pale flesh of his throat. Greg's eyes were barely open, but Sara could easily see the fear in the man's eyes. She could also see the tears, and feel her own as she shook her head. "No…"

It happened in slow motion, as though it would never finish, and yet before she knew it, it was over. The blood spilled forth, drenching his shirt, the rain washing it away even before it could stain. His eyes opened, in either pain, or disbelief, or maybe both, and yet in the next second they closed as he slumped forward, falling to the ground as his captor let him go.

"Greg!"

Sara sat up quickly, her breaths coming in short gasps, her stomach twisting into knots as she forced her eyes closed. She breathed in the air around her, the gentle smells lingering in her nose, the sounds of streets, of daily life touching her ears, muffled by the walls.

Sara pulled the blanket around her as she sank back into the mattress, unable to stop the tears that were now running down her cheeks, wetting the sheets under her. Her heart still hammered in her chest as her body trembled lightly, and she cursed, mentally scolding herself. It was just a dream, it wasn't real. And now…it was over. She had to let it go, she couldn't allow a simple nightmare to control her life.

But it had seemed so real…

Sara rolled over, Greg's side of the bed empty, her eyes moving next to the clock to see what time it actually was. Shift started in another few hours, but Sara knew she would not be able to sleep anymore…not for a while that was. Rolling back over she pulled her cell off the nightstand, flipping it open as she pressed the button for Greg's number. Swallowing lightly she listened to it ring once, then twice, and a third time before she hung up.

It had been a long while since she last had a nightmare like that. And it showed…her body was still trembling, even as she forced herself out of bed, groaning as he stomach twisted once again. Sara knew that if she wasn't careful, that she would end up getting sick.

Moving into the bathroom she stepped on the scale, checking her weight, unsure if being at 94 pounds was a reason to celebrate or worry over. It was a few more pounds than before, but not as much as she had wanted. She knew Greg had been worried…was still worried, as was her doctor. 'Eat more' her doctor had said 'It's as easy as that'. Sara rolled her eyes. Easy…yeah, except for the fact that everything she ate came right back up. Wasn't morning sickness supposed to be only in the morning?

Sara closed her eyes, leaning her head against the bathroom wall as she turned the water on. She had found out about her pregnancy just over a week ago now…and still had not been able to find a way to tell Greg. She was almost at two months now, and her doctor was threatening bed rest if her weight did not improve anytime soon. Sara laughed softly, shaking her head as she pulled her clothes off. She should have known earlier, should have gone in earlier. She was a scientist after all…there was a reason for her mood swings, her irritability, and most certainly the fact that she was late…and by more than just a few days.

Stepping under the warm spray Sara let out a sigh. Greg had the right to know…and the sooner the better. After all, she couldn't exactly wait to explain that he would be a father after dropping the kid out between her legs. She grimaced, leaning against the wall as the water came down, her stomach turning again. All she could do was hope she wouldn't get sick. She really wasn't looking forward to cleaning the tub out at the moment.

She should be happy…all expectant parents were, weren't they? All she could feel was worry, and an unnerving fear. What would Greg say? What would he do? What would Sara do, if she found herself suddenly alone? Sara loved Greg…she trusted him. She was fairly certain that he loved her back, but at the same time the man hadn't seemed interested in moving on in their relationship. How then, could she expect him to raise a family? Sara herself was still coming to terms with the fact that she would be a mother.

A sudden fear ate at her. What if she turned out like her mother? What if Greg wouldn't accept the fact that this would be their child? What if he would blame her for everything, and leave her, or even worse, what if he became like her father? Sara bit her lip as the sob threatened to break forth. She could never imagine Greg being like that, not ever, but her father had not always been abusive either. The last time she had seen her mother, the woman had told her they once loved each other.

Sara would not, could not force Greg into commitment with this. That was why it was important to keep it quiet, at least until she found a time to seriously talk with him. Then again maybe it would be best just to drive him away. Her mind recoiled at the thought, but the idea remained. Greg deserved better then this.

He was a bright, and skilled young man, and Sara had relied on him on more than one occasion. She felt as though she owed him something in return. What would she be doing by forcing him to make a choice on what he wanted to do? Sara knew he wouldn't leave willingly…Greg just didn't have it in him, to be rude, to turn her down. He would stay…but would he actually want to?

She dried her eyes, turning off the shower as she stepped out, finished even though she hadn't really washed at all. She wrapped the towel around her after drying her hair, moving into the bedroom for some fresh clothes. Her eyes still stung, but her composure was back, the idea still lingering in her head. She couldn't bear the idea of having to hurt him, but Sara knew it was for a good cause, even if Greg didn't realize it at the time. It was the least she could do for the one she loved.

* * *

"We have blood."

Greg leaned backwards, just enough to where he could peer inside the room before actually backing up a few steps. "Blood? In the classroom?"

Warrick nodded, glancing up at the younger man. "Nick and I found quite a few puddles dispersed over the classroom. A good amount, nothing that suggests something fatal happened, but enough to worry."

"Any chance of finding who the blood belongs to?"

Warrick shook his head. "Bleach, and lots of it. Brass is brining the teacher in so we can question her about it. I ran a background check against her; it appears Miss Brown has a record of child abuse, and it appears she raped a student in another state."

"What the hell was she doing in a classroom then?" Greg asked, sliding into a chair across from him. "Did they know?"

"I don't see how they wouldn't," Warrick pointed out grimly, hands working over the clothing, his eyes searching for anything that might have been missed while back at the scene. "You have an adult with young kids…someone should have done a background check, Miss Brown shouldn't have been anywhere near them."

"The real question is if anyone really cared," Greg offered, his voice quiet.

"I care," Warrick responded gruffly. "I'll make sure that the school knows that too. When this case goes public I'm making sure the media knows this woman was alone with little kids. Maybe then when the school starts hiring people to be teachers, they'll actually follow up with a proper background check."

Greg rubbed his head, letting out a sigh. The case just entered a whole new level of complication, and it seemed as though they were only going backwards. The ex boyfriend was a dead end, and they hadn't gotten any leads on a family. No one had claimed the mother or daughter yet, and no one was stepping forward to help. Catherine had found nothing at the victim's apartment that pointed to any friends, or indicated she was having trouble with anyone. Bills were always paid in cash, and on time, and she didn't have any ties to groups or functions where she could have picked up enemies.

The only thing that remained in their favor was the fact Brass had found out the woman had moved nearly seven times in the last four years. She was running from something, but what exactly? Pulling the child's birth records only listed her mother as a biological parent, the father unknown. Greg wasn't sure how much more of a dead end they could get in to.

Greg fished out his pager as it went off; frowning at the nine-one-one message he had received, glancing up at Warrick who also had a similar look. Neither of them said much, Greg moving from his chair as Warrick quickly put the evidence away, following the ex-lab rat out into the hallway, and into the break room.

There was already a small crowd in there, quiet murmurs floating over the room as they watched the television, the words 'breaking news' scrolling over the screen. Greg was already shaking his head.

"I thought we weren't going to release information about the case yet."

"We weren't," Warrick replied quietly, watching the story unfold, "this is in-depth information. You interviewed Walters right? Was the media there?"

Greg shook his head, mouth hanging open slightly. "No one…they wouldn't have known, couldn't have. No one on the outside knows that Walters was dating our victim…"

Greg matched eyes with the other man, ignoring the other stares that went around the room. "No…don't look at me, I haven't said anything to anyone; I know better, besides, that's not even the statement I took."

"And yet they site their source as 'someone from the crime lab'," Hodges pointed out briskly. "Seems kind of funny to me…you take the guys statement, and hours later it's breaking news on the television?"

"Are you sure you didn't tell anyone?" Warrick pressed him, ignoring Hodges comment. "You didn't say anything over the phone while in public, or leave your notes out?"

"I came straight from the hospital to here," Greg defended himself, trying to push aside his rising emotions. Getting angry would definitely not help in this situation. "All the evidence is in lock-up. And I swear that is not what Walters told me. I have everything written down and recorded; you can listen to the tape if you don't believe me."

Greg knew that they couldn't blame him, his eyes drifting back up to the screen as the reporter continued to support the theory that Walters had confessed to the murder of his girlfriend and her child. It was enough to make an assumption, but the man hadn't even accused anyone of doing the dirty job.

"I'd like to hear it."

Greg swallowed, turning around to face Ecklie. Somehow it didn't really surprise him; Ecklie had a knack for showing up at the worst possible moments. Still he nodded, leaving the room, more than eager to escape all the stares. Someone on the inside had leaked information, and Greg knew that it hadn't been him. At least he was sufficiently able to prove it, there would be no doubts after Ecklie and the others reviewed the tape.

He turned into the room, moving to the cabinet that still held his evidence safe. Unlocking it he pulled open the drawer, moving to the file that held everything, thumbing through the papers. He could feel his throat tighten, his heart speed up a notch as he went through it a second time, and then a third. It couldn't be…it wasn't possible. He had carried it here, he had put it away, he could swear on his life that he had.

And yet it was gone….the statement, the notes, the tap, everything. As though they had never been there in the first place. He closed the drawer, his hand still on the handle, and took a moment to compose himself. How was he supposed to explain this?

"The tape?"

Greg swallowed, turning to face possibly the most feared man in the entire crime lab itself. "I don't have it."

**TBC **


	9. Cruel Deception

**Love all the response, and would love it even more if it kept on coming :)**

**Chapter Nine: Cruel Deception**

Sara brought the cup to her lips, tilting her head back as she allowed the cool liquid to flow into her mouth, swallowing shortly after. She made a slight face, closing her eyes, but soon after shook off the strange bitter feeling. Normally she would be having coffee, and despite all the rumors about caffeine consumption, Sara had already decided she would do what she could to give her unborn child the best step in life. After all, with her being a parent, the child would need to get all the help she could offer.

Shift started in just under twenty minutes, and Sara knew she had to cut back on some time yet, her overtime nearly maxed out. There would be no starting early, at least not right now, and the brunette knew that she would be more than likely sent home early. Normally Sara would have protested, but now she was thankful, already feeling the strain of the day even though it had just begun. Or in her case, the night.

Pulling the newspaper towards her Sara sat down, resting the cup of water on the table in front of her, flipping to the crossword section. There had been a time long ago where she had been addicted to these puzzles, but she had lost interest in them, that along with not having the time like she used to. She jotted down a few answers, taking another drink of water as she did so, letting out a bitter sigh. She wasn't sure how she was going to survive nine months without caffeine.

"I was almost beginning to wonder if I would see you tonight."

Sara let out a small smile as she glanced up, nodding in invitation as she answered. "Jaysen; in consideration, I didn't think it'd be that hard, considering you're on probation."

The man grimaced, taking a seat from across her. He had left his hair down today, and Sara could see for the first time how it fell around his neck, sitting lightly on his shoulders. Jaysen shrugged as he leaned back in the chair, hands lacing behind his head. "Not a big deal. I still stand by my decision, what I did was right. Saved a man's life, can't beat that. Besides, starting tomorrow I'm back out in the field."

"I thought you had longer than that," Sara questioned, filling in another answer on the crossword. "Nick's on lab duty till this weekend, both of you had the same amount of time to serve."

"Called sweet talking, besides, LA didn't send me out here to do lab work. I have more important things to do."

"You know, the work that's done here, is more important than interrogating suspects. A person can confess to a crime, but with no evidence to support the confession the case isn't going to go anywhere."

"Hey, you have your job, I have mine. We lead two different lives sweetie."

Sara blushed, coughing to clear her throat as she shifted in her chair. "With all due respect, I'm not your sweetie, so I'd like if you didn't call me that."

The man shrugged, offering up an apology. "Hard to refrain, especially with someone like you."

"Which means what exactly?" Sara wondered, taking another sip of her water.

"No offense meant, but you are a beautiful woman. I'd really like to get to know you better."

"Well…" Sara laughed quietly, uneasily as she grasped for the needed words. "I'm…"

"Taken," Jaysen nodded, "So I've heard. Didn't want to believe it, but so it seems like it's true." The man shrugged again, letting out a smile. "So, did you want to do something after shift? Strictly as friends. I'd really like to get to know you better."

Sara shifted uneasily in her seat, halfway between wanting to say no and feeling as though she had to accept the offer. She wasn't in the mood to go out and do anything, yet unless she had a valid excuse, the man would feel as though she was just blowing him off.

Luckily she didn't have to answer, a timely distraction occurring as Warrick walked into the room. He nodded to both the occupants in the room before pouring himself a cup of coffee, leaving Sara to envy him greatly. "What's all the commotion in the hallway?"

She had walked by the crowd earlier, but hadn't thought much of it, and even now had little to no concern for it, but she was grasping for anything that would come to her aid. Next to her she heard Jaysen snicker quietly, but before she could even ask Warrick was already talking.

"We have a leak inside the lab," the man stated, nearly draining his cup of coffee in one swig. "We're not sure, but it might be Greg."

"I heard the fool lost all the papers," Jaysen laughed, grinning as he leaned further back in his chair.

"I don't find anything amusing about it," Warrick snapped at him. "The media's already eating up the entire story, we don't have any evidence to back up the false confession, and meanwhile the real killer is out there, watching this, and getting away."

"Greg wouldn't do something like that," Sara voiced, moving to her feet.

"I know," Warrick agreed. "But without any statement or recordings there's nothing Greg can do."

"Where is he?" Sara asked quietly, a hint of concern in her voice.

"He's still in Ecklie's office. The man is not happy, so don't even try to intervene. You'll only end up getting him in more trouble."

* * *

Trouble, was a light definition. Greg sat quietly in the chair that had been provided; hands folded together, fingers digging into his skin as the verbal lashing continued. It made things worse knowing that he wasn't the culprit in this, and yet still having to take the fall. When he did something wrong…when it was indeed his fault, then he could take it. He always owned up to his mistakes after all.

It was clear the man wouldn't listen to him. Ecklie only wanted someone to blame, he hardly cared if that person was truly at fault or not. As long as the head of the lab had someone to point a finger at, then all was fine. Greg closed his eyes, letting out a sigh. He opened them a brief moment later, after a nudge from Grissom reminded him he was supposed to be paying attention.

"I don't even know if you're still a benefit to this Crime Lab, Mr. Sanders," Ecklie continued, "You've caused nothing but trouble in the past and you're certainly not improving the future at this present moment."

"We have no proof that Greg's responsible for this," Grissom stated, bringing a slight sigh of relief from the youth. Leave it up to Grissom to point out the obvious.

"We have a leak, yes, but that doesn't make Greg guilty."

"And the fact that Sanders is missing key evidence doesn't prove anything?" Ecklie demanded, his pacing ceasing for the moment. "Plus the fact he interviewed the suspect himself."

"Anyone has access to any information in the lab," Grissom pointed out. "The system isn't foolproof, especially when someone's working it from the inside. Greg took the statement yes, and his statement is missing. That only leads us to assume that someone else has taken the papers. Besides, Greg has clearly stated what the suspect told him, and it doesn't match any of the information that the media has."

"Did Sanders have a witness in the room?" Ecklie wondered, taking a seat across from them.

"We can consult Walters ourselves…" Grissom started, but was quickly cut off by the other man.

"Sure, let's go ask the killer ourselves; any moron will defend himself. We need a reliable witness."

"I'm not the only one who took a statement," Greg pointed out, tired of the pointless quarrel going around. "Walter's nurse stated that Carla Raquel was there earlier."

"I've already met with Captain Brass," Ecklie stated, "Raquel's statement is accounted for."

"That doesn't mean she didn't go to the media," Greg responded bitterly.

"And you expect me to believe she fed some fabricated story to the media? To what point and purpose would that have?"

Greg frowned inwardly, gritting his teeth. He could only wonder why it was a perfectly acceptable assumption that he had fed lies to the media, but not someone else. He didn't respond, and Greg could feel the man's eyes on him as Ecklie got up once again.

"This is what's going to happen." He paused for a moment, taking in a deep breath before continuing. "You are off the case."

Greg nodded, unsurprised by that. He expected that in the least. Needless to say he was actually surprised; he had expected to be suspended. That or fired. Either option wouldn't have surprised him.

"You will not do any collection alone; you will not take any more statements until further notice. Everything that is processed alone will be reprocessed, and you will keep a detailed log of everything you do, and have it signed by your supervisor after every shift."

"That's going a little overboard don't you think?" Greg wondered, raising an eyebrow as he sat up in his chair.

"Well I can't fire you," Ecklie returned, "And I'm not going to punish everyone else because you can't do your job."

If he had a response, Greg would have given it without so much as a second thought. Instead he just sat, dumbfounded as the criticism hit its mark. It was basically the same thing Brass had told him earlier. So it wasn't just a rumor…it was true. He only made things harder on everyone else. Greg swallowed as the reality settled somewhere deep inside of him, casting his gaze off to one side as Ecklie continued with the lecture, throwing out any verbal ridicule he could come up with.

By the time it was over, Greg was more than ready to leave. The young CSI hardly waited for Grissom to leave, and instead stepped in front of him, pushing his way out into the hall. The supervisor of the nightshift closed the door behind them, the man just standing there, watching the other for a long moment.

"I didn't have any part in this," Greg pleaded, his voice quiet, almost urging the man to believe him. "We can go to the source, find out who gave them information, and when. Surely we would be able to trace it back…"

"Greg," Grissom cut him off, holding up a hand. "Just go home. Get some sleep. You don't come near this case, not even within breathing room. Anymore nonsense and we could lose the case completely, and I'm not willing to go that far."

It was safe to say that Greg was slightly taken aback. He had always counted on Grissom being there for him, and backing him up in whatever it was. Not just him, but everyone else as well. After all, he always counted on the others to figure out a way to solve their problems on their own. Why was this any different?

Still he nodded, hands slipping inside his pocket, head hanging low as Grissom left him there in the hallway. He let out a sigh, closing his eyes as he tried to regain some composure. How was he just supposed to go home?

He turned and made his way down the hall, pausing as he passed the layout room, watching as Sara worked. She was going over the bloodstains found in the carpet, and Greg could only wonder what she was up to. They had been already been processed, which left one of two things. Either she had found something…or was still looking for something that was missing.

Pausing in the doorway Greg nodded her way, offering up a quiet hello. She glanced in his direction, stopping her work for a moment as she watched him. "You're not supposed to be here."

"Nice to see you too," Greg responded bitterly, only regretting the irritation in his voice.

"You're off the case…if Ecklie or anyone else sees you in here…all this evidence can be thrown out."

"News travels fast, doesn't it?" Greg laughed quietly. "Doesn't surprise me. Besides, I'm not even in the room."

"Doesn't matter. And news does travel fast Greg, don't tell me you were surprised. After feeding the media with a bunch of lies what did you expect? A pat on the back?"

Greg's only response was a silent blink. He did not just hear that, did he? He couldn't have, the only logical explanation was that he was still in shock, and had imagined it. Perhaps he was imagining everything, and would wake up to find all of this to be one bad dream. After all…the one and only person who was supposed to believe him, that should have believed him without so much of a second thought, was now directly accusing him.

"Don't look so shocked," Sara continued, gauging his expression. "I would have figured you'd be happy that the media was finally leaving you alone, but it's funny how deception is."

"Wait…" Greg shook his head, "You think I did this for attention?"

"You certainly didn't do it for the case," Sara pointed out bluntly. "You figured you'd throw a fake apple in the pot, let it boil until we caught the real suspect, and then announce yourself as the savior. Then all the media will be back at your command again."

"That's crazy Sara," Greg protested, feeling sick now to what he was hearing. "Why would I want that? Tell me why, when have I ever enjoyed confronting the media?" He took a step inside, emphasizing his point.

"I don't know, but if you don't leave this room I will call security to have you removed. I'm not letting you ruin this case anymore than you already have. Go home; I'll see you when I get off."

"No," Greg shook his head, backing up as he did so. "I will not go home. You may be my superior at work, but nowhere else. In fact, consider yourself lucky if I ever do come home again."

It was a false threat, but all Greg wanted was a reaction. Sara's mood was peculiar, and frighteningly unchanging. He could feel his stomach drop even more as she shrugged in response.

"Just do whatever, don't bother me, I'm busy right now."

"Fine," Greg responded quietly, shaking his head as he turned away from the door. His mind was racing with so many emotions that he didn't even notice the tears that ran down Sara's face as he stormed out the building, and into the brewing storm outside.

**TBC**


	10. Invasion

**Been a long time, I know. Sorry for the wait, as well as any grammar and spelling errors. All of them belong to me :)**

* * *

**Chapter Ten: Invasion **

He had to be out of his mind. This was the one, signal solitary thought that raced through his mind. The only sad part about it was the fact it had taken him this long to realize it. His suitcase was half packed, filled with clothes, toiletries, and other essentials, and he had wandering around wondering what else he needed to take with him. Only to realize he didn't want to leave.

Sara…was a part of his life. No…she was more than that; she _was _his life. Greg swallowed bitterly as he sat down on the edge of the bed. How many times had they argued before? How many more times had they failed to even agree? Sara hadn't walked out on him; what reason did he have to do the same to her? It was more than confusing. Greg fell against the bed, resting his arms on his head as he buried his face into the comforter that was spread over the top, his mind racing with more questions than answers.

What had happened? Who had done it? Why were they adamant of having him take the fall? Was he really the one to blame?

Greg knew that he wasn't at fault, at least not in the aspect of talking to anyone. While it was true someone could have stolen the evidence, Greg knew just as well as everyone else that was not only unlikely, but a feat that just didn't make sense. After all…there was much more valuable stuff to take. Why was this case so important? The truth had been resting in the back of his mind, and it came to light even though he hadn't wanted it too. There was no motive.

Now he could see why everyone would speculate that it was him. The papers, the reports, everything was missing. Was it possible that he had left them behind somewhere? No…no it wasn't possible, he couldn't have…could he? Rolling over provided a whole new perspective of staring at the ceiling, but he hardly cared. His mind was still racing with the thoughts, the comments he had heard. In his heart he still felt as though Sara should have trusted him, should have given him the benefit of the doubt. Would he not do the same for her?

He glanced back at the suitcase, part of him wanting to finish packing, while another part wanted to dump everything on the floor for his own foolishness. What would he prove by leaving? How could he leave the only woman he had ever loved? The cold hard truth was that he couldn't. But Sara's lack of confidence in him threw him clear out in left field, a place he had never been. Who could he talk to, if not her?

Greg didn't have any real friends outside of the crime lab. Sure, there were at least a dozen people he could have called, but he hardly doubted his hairdresser would want to listen to the drama that had lately become his life. On top of that, with the little bit of bad luck that he had, someone would find out, and then he would be in even greater trouble, and trouble was the last thing he needed. He was already dreading returning to work; Greg was fairly certain Grissom wasn't too thrilled about having to baby-sit him. Grissom had done so much for him already.

He found himself remembering what Brass had said. The accusations had hurt, and deeply. At the time he had convinced himself it wasn't true, and he half forgotten about everything. But in light of recent events they had begun to stir, brewing in the back of his mind. Was he really a problem?

It was true that Sara had been getting sick a lot lately, but at the same time things had been going good…at least better than they had been. However, it wasn't just the comments about Sara that had bothered him. He wondered if everyone found him to be as burdensome as Brass had mentioned, or if the detective had been exaggerating.

Greg knew no one would admit it to his face, but just because they never said anything didn't mean they didn't feel the same way. The past few years had been dark and dismal, and Sara had been there to pull him through when he needed her the most; but was he drowning her by continuing to stay?

The question that bothered him more however was this. Would she even care if he was gone?

* * *

It was the by far the hardest thing she had ever done. Every instinct, every muscle, every bone in her body screamed at her to go after him. Her decision had been made long ago however, and she stood by it. Even the smallest fraction of emotion could ruin her plan. Greg would be okay, he always had been before. Why then, would this be any different for him?

Her heart ached for him, even as she hid her emotions behind a blank face. Work became meaningless, all blurring into one jumbled mess. She never had planned on using the altercation between Greg and the media to entice the planned breakup, but it was the opportunity she had been looking for. A way to start a fight that would slowly pull them apart. It was the best, for the both of them. Now, if only she could believe it.

She hated the thought of losing him, and was scared of being alone; but there was something that scared her even more. Driving him to the point of breaking, fearing that he too, would become like her father. She couldn't bear to see him like that, and she didn't want to see it happen. She didn't want to fear him, ever, and she didn't want to be the reason of that fear.

Too many times on cases she seen couples pushed to the brink, and had see the end results. The last thing she wanted was to be another statistic, ending up in a book or computer log that other people read, and shook their heads at. It was no place for her, her unborn child and certainly no place for someone like Greg.

The rest of the night her head was buried in paperwork. She kept herself busy, unwilling to let her mind wander. She couldn't allow herself to change her mind, couldn't go back on her silent agreement. Yet as the minutes passed by, Sara couldn't help but think.

It was unfair of her to use that accusation against Greg. She knew well enough that Greg wouldn't have gone to the media. He avoided them like the plague, and from time to time Sara would have to be the one to chase off loitering reporters, and interviewers. Sara could also count the number of times Greg had screwed up a case on one hand. Though he wasn't as tedious as she was, he was pretty darn close. She had a hard time believing he would just 'misplace' the entire case file.

Her heart went out to him, knowing how he must feel, but understanding why she could not help. Any support she offered him would only confuse him, and prolong what would eventually come to be. The last thing she wanted was to encourage false assumptions and spur on hope. But did that mean she couldn't help at all?

So much had been going on; the lab had been increasingly busy. It was possible for anyone to slip in and out without so much of a second glance. They had it happen before, where people on the inside had been working for those on the outside. The files, though locked up, were not under constant supervision, and keys were easy enough to find.

The slight buzzing startled her, but she calmed herself quickly as pulled free the pager. Raising an eyebrow, she glanced over across the hallway to where Archie was waving her over. The case…he must have found a lead on the surveillance, Sara realized dimly.

It was in the early hours of the morning, when the lab was at its quietest; the hallways were empty and overhead the lights were dimmed. She knew that in a few short hours that it would be busy once again, as new cases rolled in, and a new team of investigators would take charge. Sara mildly wondered what would await her, if she chose to go home. Would Greg still be there, or had he held true to his word?

"Tell me you found a lead," she announced, entering the room. Truthfully, she hadn't really paid any attention to the current case at all, too wrapped up in her own thoughts and fears. However, she knew the others were grasping for leads, even the slightest one at all.

"Not really, but I did find this."

She frowned, watching the screen in front of her. Archie had replayed it a few times before she shook her head. "What am I supposed to be seeing?"

"It's Greg."

It could have been the hormones, but Sara wasn't too sure as she growled under her breath. "I can see who it is. The question is why are we watching him?"

"Check his hands out, what do you see?"

She moved closer, staring at the screen, before nodding. Now she could see it. "It's the case file…so he did have, and he did log it in."

"He had it," Archie confirmed, "But the camera doesn't show inside of the room. There's no telling what he did after he entered. All we know is that he walked into the room with the files, and left a few minutes after without them."

"So you think he's helping someone?" Sara asked, surprise and unwanted accusation in her voice.

"No, but I'm telling you what anyone else would. We have no proof…but we do have this."

She watched, intently now, as he speed up the screen. Nearly an hour ahead, and the film slowed. On the screen a hooded figure walked down the hallway, pausing outside the door to glance around the area, before slipping inside. Five minutes passed, and the hooded figure reemerged, a stack of files clutched in his hand.

"No identification," Sara muttered sadly, realizing now the suspect had never once looked remotely towards a camera.

"I've checked all the other cameras, no luck. It's like he disappeared. Not only that, but I can't get a clear shot at the files in his hand. He stuffed it in a larger envelope, probably to avoid detection."

"Archie…someone can't just disappear."

The man nodded, "I've already paged Grissom, he's out at a scene, but promised to check it out when he gets back. I just thought you might like to know."

Sara nodded, straightening up. It was as though a heavy burden had been lifted, and her heart beat freely once more as she thanked him and left. No sooner had she stepped out in the hallway that the claustrophobic feeling returned when she realized she wouldn't be able to tell Greg. Not if she wanted to save him.

* * *

If he had been in a clear state of mind, he probable would have left. He was angry, frustrated, hurt and even more so, tired. The very thought of moving out, and trying to find a place to stay whether it be a hotel or small apartment exhausted him even more. He had glanced at the clock, knowing full well Sara wouldn't be home for a few hours yet. It would be not only wiser, but safer, to head out fully rested. Reluctantly, he had set his suitcase on the floor, set his alarm, and went to sleep.

He slept, surprisingly well, taking everything into account. His dreams were riddled with clues and dark, chilling bits of past and present happenings. But even they were not enough to wake him. When he did open his eyes, he found himself surrounded in a muggy fog-like state, and he lay for a moment, trying to figure out where he was, and even more so, what had woken him.

It was still dark out, and he had only slept a couple of hours, both his body and mind thoroughly exhausted from the recent emotional tolls, but even his semi-conscious state, he knew something was wrong. Sara wouldn't be home for another hour yet, maybe even longer with his dismissal. But it was easy to hear, without a doubt, that someone was walking around in the kitchen. The quiet footsteps, the shuffling of papers…someone was in the apartment.

He pushed himself off the bed, getting his feet under him. Still unsure of his footing he held onto the wall, the adrenaline pumping through his veins offsetting the exhaustion that had once settled in his body. After a few shaky breaths he convinced himself that perhaps it was Sara…after all, Grissom had sent her home early once. He could have done it again.

But it was unlikely. He remembered the break-ins that happened earlier in the week. Could remember how Jessie had been stabbed…how she had died. The killer had a knife…and Greg had nothing. He clenched his hands into fists, opening them again shortly after. Could he win with sheer strength if he had too? Slowly he moved closer to the bedroom door, inching it open with the palm of his hand.

The beam of the flashlight swept across the floor, over the countertops as the invader continued to shuffle through the papers that were now spread across the counter. He couldn't see who it was, not with a first glance as the person was shroud in darkness, but Greg could tell for sure that it was not Sara.

Instinctively, he reached for his phone, drawing in a sharp breath as he realized it was no longer on him. It was by his clock, on the nightstand; he had taken it off before falling asleep. He let out a curse, quickly realizing his mistake, but to late to silence himself, or move back into the safety of the room. He had been found.

**TBC**


	11. Trust and Betrayal

**Yup, I'm still here. I will finish this story; eventually. I am trying (honest!) and I hope to have the next chapter out within the following week!**

**Let me know you're still here!**

**Chapter Eleven: Trust and Betrayal**

* * *

It hadn't been much of a conversation; the man was silent save for the questions he asked, and even then they were short and to the point. Greg stood facing him, his arms crossed as he answered monotonously. He had done this before, more than once; it almost seemed natural now.

It was a depressing thought; being interrogated was not something he wanted to become routine in his life. Plus it didn't help the fact that he was currently in poor standings with what seemed like everyone back at the Lab. He found no compassion from Captain Brass when the man showed up shortly after the paramedics, and it hadn't surprised him either. Greg had recently found out about Brass' distaste for him a while back, and the bitter remarks still stung more than he wanted to admit.

There had been a part of him that wanted to avoid this altogether. Greg knew it was a ridiculous thought, but he hadn't wanted to be the one to call it in. Thankfully he didn't have to; someone else had beaten him to it. It was the first time Greg could ever remember being thankful for nosy neighbors.

There had been a brief struggle, and the suspect had been unarmed, a very fortunate circumstance for Greg indeed. But that hadn't stopped whoever it was from using brute force. Greg had taken a few sharp blows, and had dealt a few of his own before losing the struggle altogether. On the floor of his own apartment the suspect had wriggled out of his grasp, kicking Greg in the head during the ordeal. It had left him dazed long enough to escape, and by the time Greg came to his sense the sirens could be heard outside.

"You didn't get any description at all?"

"It was dark and he was wearing a mask," Greg answered tiredly. He knew it wasn't much help, but given the circumstances there wasn't much he could do.

"You of all people should know that identifying a suspect is the number one key to cracking a case," Brass chastised him, jotting down even more notes on his pad.

"I'm sorry," Greg muttered sarcastically. "Next time he happens to break in, I'll ask him to take his mask off so I can get a picture."

"Good, considering your description matches three quarters of the entire Vegas population," Brass scowled.

"Look," Greg snapped angrily, "I'm tired, because I haven't had a decent night's rest in God knows how long, I haven't had a full meal in what feels like forever because I've been too busy working, and to top it all off, I'm a little sore."

"Don't forget bitchy," Brass commented, seemingly unaffected by the other man's outburst.

Greg closed his eyes, unable to come up with a response to remark. Somehow it seemed that not matter what he did, he was dammed either way. Apparently he was more right than he had originally suspected, for the two last people he wanted to see in the world were now coming up to him.

"Something must be important for you to come all the way out here," Greg said testily as the first man approached.

"Watch it Sanders," Ecklie answered crossly. "You're already in enough trouble as it is."

"Now I'm in trouble? Unbelievable!"

"Almost as unbelievable as you losing the case file…"

"Enough!"

It was Grissom who had broken the heated argument, and for some strange reason everyone listened and the tension, though still there, was slowly fading away. Greg hardly met the other man's gaze; he knew his supervisor was already angry with him considering everything that had happened in the last forty-eight hours, and he didn't want to add anything else to the list, but it seemed like an almost impossible task at the moment.

"Have you been checked out yet?"

Greg shook his head.

"You may have a concussion; I want you checked before you leave. For the rest of us…"

"I don't."

Greg hardly enjoyed the look Grissom gave him.

"You don't what? Have a concussion, or you don't want to be checked out?"

"Both."

"You have symptoms of a concussion..."

"Which can be mistaken for being overly tired," Greg defended himself. He had plenty of interactions with hospitals and paramedics in the past, scenarios which he wanted to avoid not only now, but for all future time. He knew it was unreasonable thought, but the longer he could hold off from any sort of visit, was better for him.

"Greg," Grissom's voice dropped a notch lower, the way it seemed to do whenever he was serious. It was the same voice that Greg hated to hear the most. "Your past history leaves you vulnerable to concussions. This is not a suggestion."

"I can make sure he gets there."

Greg felt his stomach turn as Grissom smiled at the newcomer. He knew who the voice belonged to, and Greg also knew that the man would stick to his word. Nick was the type of person who never backed away from a promise.

"Thank you Nick," Grissom nodded towards them, smiling still.

"Yes, thank you," Greg echoed, turning around to face the Texan. "I thought you weren't allowed to leave the Lab."

"Special call," the man smiled at him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Come on."

"I can walk over there by myself you know. I am capable of doing one thing right at least."

"Bad day?"

"Possibly the worst of my life," Greg muttered, "and for me, that's saying a lot."

He took a seat on the edge of the curb as Nick motioned to one of the paramedics that had been hanging nearby. Greg didn't even bother looking as the Texan sat next to him; instead he let out a sigh. "So what about you?"

"Well, my day's probably gone a little better than yours," Nick commented, eyeing the cut on Greg's forehead. "But I wouldn't start taking bets."

"Yeah? Try compromising a case and not being able to vouch for yourself, and having no one believe you, and the one person that should at least _listen _to you completely blow you away. And not in a good way."

"Sara?"

Greg nodded, flinching as the paramedic began cleaning the cut. "She thinks I did the entire thing on purpose. Hell, I don't even know if I did it on accident."

"I'm sure it's a misunderstanding…" Nick offered.

"She threatened to call security on me because I stopped to say hello. She believes it has to do with my 'love' of media attention. Besides…she's not even here. I don't care how mad I was, if this had happened to her…I'd still come."

For once the Texan was silent, and though it had been what Greg had wanted before, it almost hurt to know that Nick silently agreed with him. Part of him wanted to hear Nick argue…Greg needed to hear that, even if it was a lie. Maybe he needed it because the truth hurt too much.

"Everyone fights Greg…and fighting with women…it's like...trying to bathe a cat. Pointless and you only end up hurt in the end."

"Never quite heard it put that way before."

"Sorry," Nick apologized quietly. "I'm not very good at this kind of thing. She did call though."

"Who?"

"Sara," Nick nodded towards him. "She wanted me to take you to the hotel."

Greg frowned, trying to follow what he was saying. "Hotel?"

"Your apartment is a crime scene now. You can't stay there. Sara's got a place over at the Tropicana. She called me and asked if I'd give you a ride."

"Didn't ask how I was," Greg shrugged it off, or at least tried to.

"Would have been pointless."

"Thanks, I needed that."

"I didn't know how you were Greg," Nick explained. "So I couldn't have told her even if she did ask."

"It doesn't change the fact."

Nor did it hurt any less. Sara simply hadn't bothered…sending someone else to 'fetch' him. Was she still angry at him? More in likely, and it made him want to avoid going to the hotel even more. What was the point after all? He either would be faced with more criticism, or the silent treatment, and at the moment, he wasn't sure which one he was more afraid of.

Nick had waited patiently once the paramedics where finished; waiting until Greg had made the first move. If the Texan was judging him, he was doing a good job of hiding it. Greg was thankful, and in an odd sort of way, he felt comfortable around the man, feeling as though for the first time that day, he was with someone who wouldn't turn their back on him, despite all that had happened. And for that, he was grateful.

* * *

Things had taken much longer than she had anticipated. It had been her intention to be waiting at the hotel by the time Greg arrived, but Sara knew that time had already come and gone. It had been one of the hardest things she had ever done; a hard feat considering everything she had just recently done. But she couldn't reschedule, not again. Appointments were hard enough to make as it was. Having to schedule around work, and around Greg was tiring, and she had already called off three visits. Pretty soon she feared her doctor would start calling work, and Grissom would find out…then Greg…

Greg…

She had wanted to be there for him; but the call had come in when she was driving to the hospital. Sophia had updated her quickly on the situation, reassuring her that Greg was in no real danger, and was only waiting for Brass and the others to show up. Sara knew that she couldn't pick him up, and immediately leave after with no explanation as to where she was going. It was hard, but she accepted the fact that this could play in her favor.

For each passing day, her idea grew stronger. In her mind she could see how things would turn out in the end, and knew that Greg would only be satisfied if he believed that he'd be better off without her. It was a painful thought, but she clung to it, for the memories of her own childhood rung fiercely in her mind. He deserved better than that…their child deserved better…they all did. Sara was willing to make the sacrifice, and forgo her own selfish needs and wants if it meant a chance at a decent life.

The hard part was keeping up the act in his presence. She couldn't very well go about the rest of her life never seeing or speaking to him again…well she could, but it wouldn't be fair to Greg. She let out a long sigh; it was a rather confusing matter the more she thought about it.

The drive to the hotel was a long one, and walking to the room was even longer. In the elevators she juggled words in her mind, trying to formulate what she would say when they faced each other. Greg would doubt be upset…but what did you say to someone in such a state when you only wanted to keep the distance growing? Everything of course would be so much easier if she didn't love him…but that was the problem. She did love him; more than she could ever say.

But words weren't needed. The room was dark, the curtains drawn across the windows and he was asleep, stretched out on top of the covers. Sara could tell he had fallen asleep shortly after arriving; he hadn't even bother changing out of the coveralls given to him back at the scene. His hair was a mess, and tiny line of drool ran across the pillow. Damn…why did he have to be so cute?

She closed her eyes, leaning against the wall. All her earlier thoughts and plans melted away, and the only thing she wanted to do was curl up next to him. She wanted…no needed to feel him, to be as close as she could, to feel his warm skin, and breathe in his scent. Why was she so weak?

"To the hell with it," she cursed quietly, dropping her purse on the floor. If was she was going leave within the next seven months, she was going to enjoy it as much as she could. Once everything was said and done, there would be no going back. Silently, she slid onto the bed, resting her head behind his, touching him carefully. When he didn't stir she moved closer, inching forward until she was pressed up against him, arm wrapped around his waist.

He moved then, but not enough to indicate he was waking up. Even so, she held still, only relaxing when she knew for sure he was still sleeping. With a small smile she closed her eyes, the icy chill in the pit of her stomach disappearing for the first time that day.

**TBC**


	12. Reasons

Thanks for reading, hope you enjoy!

And let me know you're out there too!

* * *

**Chapter Twelve: Reasons**

"You have to admit it Grissom, all of this seems a bit funny."

"I actually don't find anything humorous about it."

Nick let out a sigh as he followed the man into his office. The Texan had spent the last several hours sorting through evidence collected at Greg and Sara's place, and the entire ordeal had gotten him thinking. Sadly, the more he thought about it, the less it made sense. He pulled the chair forward as Grissom sat down on the other side of the desk.

"You know what I mean. You said yourself that there's no such thing as a coincidence."

Grissom studied him for a moment before responding. "What does this have to do with Greg?"

"His case file goes missing and then his place is broken into," Nick pointed out. "All of his happened within a few hours of each other. I think someone's setting him up."

"For what exactly?"

Nick shook his head slowly. "I don't know."

"And the chance that Greg went to the media?"

"Non-existent in my mind. Greg hasn't spoken to the media willingly for a long time."

"It could be from a secondary source," Grissom suggested, trying to keep all the options open.

"Possibly," Nick agreed, "he could have said something that someone picked up and elaborated, but that doesn't explain how the files went missing."

"Archie has footage from the cameras of an unknown suspect leaving the room with a folder. There's nothing else we can get off of it; someone took them after Greg filed them, but we have no way of knowing who."

"But we know that it wasn't Greg."

"You and I know that, yes. But we don't have any solid proof, and without that…"

"Ecklie's going to still blame Greg."

Nick let out a sigh. They were getting somewhere, but not as far as he would have liked. "The suspect that broke in had no interest of anything valuable, they were interested in Greg's mail instead. Catherine and Warrick found stacks of it all over the room."

"What is valuable changes from person to person Nick. You have to know who your person is in order to understand what they want."

"Or know what they want in order to figure out who we are dealing with," Nick suggested. "This really doesn't help us. There's still so much we don't know."

"Then let's focus on what we do know."

"Okay," Nick took in a deep breath, leaning back in the chair. "We know two people took our current suspect's statement, Carla and Greg. When interviewed orally, their words matched almost exactly. Written proof…Carla's matches what she said, but Greg's statement is now gone. Media gets false leads on the case through the department a few hours after Greg returns to the lab…"

"Leaves it open for anyone to get a call through."

Nick nodded. "Makes it less likely Greg said something at the scene or on his way back. The media would have had it before Greg filed the reports. Archie checked his phone records…Greg made a few calls between the scene and the lab, but to no one outside of the department. Same with incoming calls."

"Still doesn't rule out the fact that someone overhead the conversation. The records lists the calls and length of time, but not what was said."

"Somehow…" Nick agreed quietly; but he didn't want to accept the fact that Greg had passed information along. It just didn't seem like something he would do. "Case files disappear, media is all over the case, and Greg is sent home."

"Normally a suspension would be likely to occur in this case," Grissom said. "But without solid proof that Greg did actually make a mistake…he can't be."

"I thought Ecklie didn't want to deal with more overtime," Nick interrupted.

"That was his excuse," Grissom explained, "He wants someone to blame for the department's mistake."

"Unbelievable," Nick muttered quietly, shaking his head. "With as many cases we have broken you'd think he'd have everyone's backs once in a while."

Grissom ignored it. "What else do we have? If these two events are related…why? If the suspect was going to break into an apartment, why risk having the owner come home earlier than expected?"

"Maybe the suspect needed Greg there?"

"Why?"

Nick shrugged, taking a breath as he thought it over. He had first thought it was used as a distraction…allowing someone to slip away unnoticed as everyone was being hammered by the media as well as the rest of the department. They could slip away…do what was needed to be done, and return without ever being missed…unless…

"They needed to know where Greg lived."

"Then why created such circumstances? It would be easy to follow Greg or Sara back after any shift."

"Not everyone knows that Greg and Sara are living together. Mostly nightshift, and a few of the lab techs. Everyone else just assumes they're dating. Besides, any other time, there was a good chance Greg would have noticed he was being followed. Greg was too distracted after the incident to pay attention to what was going on around him."

"Exactly what I thought."

Nick stared at him with a confused expression. "You knew this already? Why didn't you just tell me then?"

"I'd like you to figure some things out on your own," Grissom replied with a smile. "It's good practice."

"For what? Going insane?"

His only response was a smile. The man irritated Nick sometimes; it was a good feeling to build up to such a conclusion, only to learn it already had been reached.

"So tell me, what else do you know that I don't?"

"Well…Wendy's running samples collected from the running shoe Greg managed to swipe."

"Shoe? I didn't find any shoes in the evidence."

"I had Catherine process it right away to give to Wendy. I wanted a match a soon as possible."

"Sweat…" Nick said, realizing what Grissom was after. "DNA?"

"If we're lucky. Nothing special about the shoe itself though. Men's size ten and a half Adidas, pretty much something anyone can buy."

"So Greg can get the guy's shoe…but not a description of his face?"

"Struggle happened; Greg was trying to subdue him long enough for the cops to arrive…suspect decided it was worth losing a shoe over. That would explain how Greg got kicked in the head as well," Grissom explained.

"You know…if the guy wanted to hurt Greg…it would have been easy. There's no telling if he had any sort of weapon on him…"

Grissom only nodded, and Nick let out a sigh of relief. It was a scary thing to think about, and Nick knew that the questions of 'why' would be not too far behind.

* * *

He wasn't quite sure what to think when he first woke. Other than completely irritated, that was. It had been his phone…well, the hotel phone that was. Catherine had taken his cell before he left his apartment with promises of returning it as soon as possible. Greg wasn't too concerned…it really hadn't been of much help to him earlier.

Still half-asleep, he had disentangled himself from Sara's hold, reaching over to answer the shrill ring that was coming from the nightstand. Greg was sure that it was Grissom, and wasn't surprised to find out that he was right. However, Grissom wasn't calling him into work; that in itself was a surprise. Instead he was giving him the night off…and Sara as well.

He could use the night off; Greg knew that he could. He wasn't ready to face his so called 'new' job just yet. Being hounded and supervised like a little kid wasn't his idea of work. Worst of all, he hadn't the faintest clue of how long it was going to last.

Now awake, he had a hard time deciding what made him feel worse. The fact Grissom had woken him only to tell him to go back to sleep…or the fact he woke up in Sara's embrace. They had argued…well, she had done most of the arguing herself; then she hadn't showed up after the break in, neither did she ask.

It was hard to admit that she hadn't been there when he had needed her the most. At the time when he needed to hold her, and hear her say that everything was going to be alright. Instead the opposite had happened. She had cut him down when he was the weakest, and looking for support from the person he trusted the most in the world.

He had been here before, and it was a place he never had wanted to return. College had been hard enough, adding on the fact of his chosen field never garnered much from the ladies. Still there were a few that had looked his way; one girl in particular he took a liking too.

There had been casual meetings, then dates. Nothing too serious…then one lonely night they had gotten drunk, and things got out of control. How old had he been? Twenty-two; she was only a year older than he was.

Greg had been sure that things would have taken off from there. Then he learned he had merely been a pawn in a bet. The following day the money was exchanged, and Greg was treated to laughter, and ridicule. It was safe to say he hadn't followed through with dating for a long, long time.

Things weren't the same here; he knew that. He was no longer in college, and Sara was not the gambling type. If she was, she held one hell of a poker face. But it didn't change how he felt inside. Betrayed.

He glanced back over at her, watching her sleep quietly, unmoved from where he had pulled away. She was beautiful, yes; but that wasn't what drew him close to her. It was her intellect, it was the way she both admired and despised his tastes, his…hobbies, if you would call them. She could be short-tempered, stubborn, and downright bitter at times. But he could look into those same eyes and find comfort, and understanding, and an unspoken love he couldn't describe.

Things had been difficult lately; better, certainly better than they had been before, but still not perfect. Finances were a daily problem, and work was draining the both of them physically, not to mention emotionally given their past. Everyone at work still treated them as though they were made of glass, despite the events having long been gone. Greg knew they all meant well…well, most of them, at least. He had the slightest of feelings that a few people in particular didn't care much for him; Ecklie being the top of that list, followed closely by Brass.

He let out a soft laugh, burying his head in his hands as he fought off a yawn. He had slept nearly eight hours, but still felt exhausted. Greg knew that one night of sleeping wouldn't make up for everything, but he still had been surprised. The bed was more than tempting to lay back down on, but the thought of going back to sleep as if nothing happened made him queasy.

It was then he first heard it. There were always a variety of new, strange sounds whenever they stayed away from home, and even now, in the late evening, people would still be milling around the hotel. But it wasn't coming from outside of the room; no…it sounded like…

Greg turned and looked at Sara, who had only moments before been sleeping soundly. Now she was moving almost timidly, eyes still closed as she was muttering under her breath. He didn't need to be an expert to know when someone was having a nightmare.

Greg reached over, scooting up on the bed near her as he put his hand on her shoulder, gently shaking her awake. It took a few tries but she finally met his gaze, her eyes still heavy from the dream, glistening with unshed moisture. Her own fingers were wrapped around his forearm, holding him tightly as if afraid to let him go.

"Are you okay?"

It was all he could think of saying at the moment, at a loss for words without knowing if she was still angry with him. Sara nodded quickly, but held onto his arm when he tried to pull away. "Stay."

Her voice nearly broke his heart. He didn't have to ask to know what her nightmare had been about. There were only a few nightmares that could get her to act this way. Though she had never told Greg about them, he could pretty well imagine what they were like. He still had them, but they were fleeting, coming and going when they pleased. Sometimes they'd surface when he wasn't even thinking about them. Other times, when he was certain he'd have them, they'd hadn't come.

"Sara…"

"Please Greg…" she pleaded. "You don't have to say anything…just stay here."

He let out a nod, pulling her against his chest as he leaned against the headboard. She was still shaking, but he knew that would go away soon enough. Sadly he wondered if the nightmares would ever go away, or if that was something the both of them would always have to face.

**TBC**


	13. Mistakes

**Thanks to all my readers out there, and the wonderful reviews!!**

**Special thanks to _Jenny_ for help with this chapter!**

* * *

**Chapter Thirteen: Mistakes **

The results had come in when he was processing the last of the evidence on his table. Nick for one was grateful; he had done his fair share of lab work in the past, but never this long before. Thankfully he only a few more days of this left. Nick quickly finished cleaning up, slipping something inside of his pocket before heading down the hall.

Wendy was ready and waiting for him, leaning back in the chair as she held the piece of paper. "It took some time, but we finally got something."

"He's in the system?"

"He's got a rap sheet longer than most people on America's Most Wanted. All petty crimes; convenience store robberies, thrift stores, pawn shops…"

"All in Vegas?" Nick questioned.

Wendy shook her head. "Across the states apparently. A Riley Wesjan, last know address was in Miami Florida. He's hit up places there too, as well as places in Georgia, Missouri, Nebraska, Colorado and Utah."

"And now Nevada," Nick added. "Guy gets around. I wonder what brings him all the way out here."

"Probably chased out of each state with lighted torches and pitchforks. Doubt people are happy about having a known criminal escape. I sent the information over to Archie already; he was going to see what else he could pull up on this guy."

Nick thanked her, taking the results with him. He had been slightly disappointed to be honest. Riley would have no connections with the crime lab; he would have come up on the match file if he had. As far as a connection with Greg…Nick doubted that one too. He and Greg were fairly good friends; their circle of friends and acquaintances revolved around one another. Still, he would run the name by him just to be sure…

"Griss," Nick nodded to his boss as he rounded the corner. "Wendy got a hit off DNA; but it wasn't what I thought."

He waited as Grissom checked over the results, not saying anything till Grissom looked up at him. "You can't exactly get into the crime lab without a visitors pass, and even if Riley got in here; there's no way he would have known his way around…or know that Greg took the statements…"

"We assumed the two incidents were linked," Grissom interrupted, "All this proves is that they weren't, there's still several other ways it could have happened."

"You said…"

"We eliminated it Nick. That's what we do; we come up with a scenario, work it through, see if it matches up with the evidence. There were other break-ins at that apartment complex prior to the one in Greg's apartment. As far as the evidence and the media…we're still at a dead end. We come up with a new scenario."

"Walters…" Nick suggested.

"What about Walters?"

"He was…still is our only known suspect in the double homicide. If he is guilty…maybe he wasn't in on it alone."

"You think he had help?" Grissom wondered.

Nick nodded, "Hired someone…paid them under the table. They weren't happy with the pay; happens enough when you get mixed up with their sort. When Michael Walters didn't die…they had the case files swiped. Either they're in the police force, or they have connections…"

"Why just Greg's then?"

Nick shrugged, letting out a sigh. He had wondered the same himself, but now he worked it out in his mind. "They only knew of Greg's statement. He went later in the day than Carla did. News of Walter's condition wasn't released until after she had left."

"Suspect went to the hospital to finish it off; saw Greg taking the notes, and decided that putting Walters in jail for murder was better than killing him. He paid someone to collect the files, and went to the media with the fabricated story, feeling smug that he was only one who had the proof."

Nick let out a sigh, pursing his lips. "You knew about this too."

"It's a gift," Grissom replied quietly. "Keep working on it, and keep me updated with what you find. See what you can learn about our Riley friend as well."

He stood there, shaking his head as the man left. "Why does he always do that?"

* * *

They ended up talking for most of the night. It had taken Sara a good twenty minutes to calm down, and even then she hadn't moved from where Greg held her. He didn't mind though; it seemed as though they never had time for this anymore.

Though they talked about many things, the subject of what recently happened never came up. Greg wanted to, but each time he tried Sara quickly changed the subject. It felt almost as though she was trying to avoid it, but playing as though she never really heard him. He wasn't quite sure what to think.

While he wanted to know what had happened, part of him was afraid to know the truth. He wondered mildly if it would be better just to forget the entire thing. But his mind simply wouldn't let it go. It was during the next lull in conversation that Greg took the opportunity to bring it up.

"Why didn't you come?"

Sara said nothing for a moment, but then pulled back, sitting up on her knees. "What do you mean?"

She was playing dumb again; but at least she wasn't trying to change the topic this time. "You didn't come."

"I was busy."

Her answer was short, and a bit snippy, a clear sign that she didn't want to talk about it. But Greg pressed on. "Busy with what?"

"Nothing that concerns you."

"The case then?" Greg guessed, slightly agitated now. Sara was a very hard person to talk to when she was like this. She would answer without really answering the actual question.

"What about it?"

"You couldn't get someone else to cover for you for even a few minutes? For all you know I could have been dead or dying."

"You weren't," Sara corrected him. "Besides, you're an adult; you can take care of yourself."

It stung more than he wanted to admit. While he knew she was right, he had grown used to her constant hovering, and prying ways. Now it seemed as though she didn't even care. "How would you know that I wasn't?

"It's called talking. You should try it sometimes."

"I do," Greg defended himself as he sat up. "I talked to Nick, and he said you didn't ask him."

"Why would I? He wasn't there Greg, how would he know?"

Nick had said that too, but Greg wasn't so sure that was the reason. He wanted to believe it, but he also felt that if Sara really did care, she would have asked regardless. The only other logical explanation was that she didn't care; but that was too hard to accept. "He could have."

"But he didn't. Why are you making a big deal out of this?"

"Why are you making such a little deal out it?"

"When our place was broken into before I didn't see you come rushing home for me," Sara pointed out. "Nor did I expect you to. I knew you had things to do."

"That was different."

"How?"

"For one you weren't even there when it happened," Greg responded tensely. "And we don't even know if we were actually broken in then. If we had been, if we knew for sure, then yes, I would have gone home."

"And if I knew you had been hurt so would I," Sara interjected. "I'm sorry I can't respond to your every need and want."

"Sara…"

"No," she shook her head, sliding off the bed. "We're done talking about this. I need to calm down; I'm going to take a shower. Do us a favor and buy both of us a change of clothes downstairs. I have some money in my purse."

"Downstairs?" Greg questioned, raising an eyebrow. "In a gift shop? Do you have any idea of how expensive that is going to be?"

"I really don't care Greg," Sara told him tensely as she headed for the bathroom. "I have nothing else to wear and these smell," she indicated to her clothes. "And sorry to say that those don't flatter you either."

He watched her storm off, a mixture of emotions racing through him. It was hard to say how he really felt, and even harder to grasp onto what affected him more. With a sigh he moved off the bed, picking up her purse that had abandoned on the floor. At least Sara was right in reference to their clothes. He hadn't been able to take anything from the apartment, and the coveralls were starting to get to him. But when he reached in her purse for some money, he found something else entirely.

* * *

Sara let the water spray around her. Normally she was particular about this type of thing. Hotels weren't her favorite places in the world, and the bathrooms…she had worked too many cases in her life to know well enough just exactly what could potentially lie in them. But she desperately needed a shower; the nightmare had been horrifying. It was saying a lot; most she could shake off fairly quickly, but this one, this one had lingered.

It had been about her…and her parents. She closed her eyes, turning up the hot water. She had these dreams often enough, but through time had been able to handle them well enough. Except this one was different; it hadn't just been her parents…it had be her and Greg…and their own child, living in the same situation Sara had for so many years.

_It was just a dream._

She had told herself this over and over again. But it never got any easier. It didn't help things to wake up to find Greg peering over her, shaking her. It was odd then, she smiled inwardly, that she had only wanted to be close to him afterwards. She needed the reassurance that Greg wasn't like that. At least not yet.

The thought nearly broke her heart. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hands, trying with little success to dry away the tears that were forming. It had to have been at least a half hour since being in the shower; Sara wondered if Greg had returned yet. With a sigh she turned off the water, stepping out and wrapping a towel around her torso.

Her clothes were there, neatly laid out on the counter, and already turning damp from the amount of steam in the room. Sara hit the switch for the fan and dried off, changing quickly into the fresh linen. It wasn't her first choice in wardrobe, but she assumed it was what she got by allowing Greg to do the shopping. She took her time in drying her hair, attempting to stall as long as possible before going back out. What she would say…what either of them had to say was lost to her. But finally she could avoid it no longer.

She expected many of things; expected him to be angry, and yell at her. Expected him to be quiet and not say anything at all. Even expected that he may be extremely apologetic. But she wasn't expecting the withdrawn look on his face, nor the quiet tone in his voice that almost seemed lethal.

"You were in there a long time."

"I needed some time to myself," she responded. She hadn't seen Greg like this…not for a long time at least. The last she could remember was after the accident, when he had lost his memory. And it scared her.

"When were you going to tell me?"

When she didn't answer he held up the piece of folded paper. Sara felt herself growing sick as she looked at it. She didn't need to see it to know what it was.

"You went through my things?"

"To get your money; it's not like I found this on purpose."

"So the paper just unfolded itself?"

She was growing angry now. How could she explain? She couldn't; Sara had forgotten it was even in there. Her doctor had jotted down some vitamins and iron supplements to help with her weight for her pregnancy. Normally she would have gotten them already, but she hadn't been up to it yesterday. But that still didn't change the fact that Greg had gone snooping through her things.

"You were at the doctor's yesterday then? That's why you didn't show up."

Sara nodded; there was no point in denying the truth now.

"Why lie about it?"

"I didn't lie," Sara told him sternly. It was partially true; "I said it didn't concern you."

"You're health doesn't concern me?" Greg cried, shaking his head. "I've been suggesting that you go see someone for your weight for weeks now."

"My weight?" Sara frowned, trying to catch what he said.

"And you're eating habits," Greg added. "But just because you're too stubborn to admit that you were wrong doesn't mean you have to go behind my back and then lie about it."

Sara finally caught on. Greg didn't know about the pregnancy; she wasn't sure if it was relief she was feeling just yet. She cleared her throat, trying to regain her composure.

"It was my decision Greg. I don't have to tell you about everything that goes on in my life."

"I would appreciate it if you at least tried."

"You're not my father," Sara said coldly.

"No," Greg responded quickly, looking a bit surprised. "I'm not."

"Then stop acting like him."

She knew it was the wrong thing to say the second the words left her mouth. Though they had been standing on opposite ends of the room Greg looked as though she had physically slapped him. The color had nearly disappeared from his face and there was a haunted look in his eyes as he shook his head.

"I'm not…"

"Greg," Sara started, but was cut off as he shook his head.

"No," he shook his head again, pushing past her to get to the door.

"Wait…don't…where are you going?" she called after him, desperately trying to form a coherent sentence.

He didn't answer, or even look back. It took several long seconds for Sara to realize that Greg had just walked out on her. By the time she reached the hallway he was nowhere to be found. It was then the sickening feeling hit the bottom of her stomach, and she realized that she had just made the biggest mistake of her life.

**TBC**


	14. Moving Forward

**Thanks for all the reviews, sorry for the late update. I've got a longer chapter to make up for it. **

**Thanks goes to Jenny for her help and advice on this!**

* * *

**Chapter Fourteen: Moving Forward**

By the time he had left his place it was well into the nineties. It didn't surprise him; the news was calling for triple digits again. The man hadn't really noticed though. He worked mostly nights, well after the sun had gone down, and for the times he worked during the day it had been inside the air-conditioned lab.

It still hadn't prepared him for the heat. He had cranked the AC up as far as it would go, wishing that he had dressed in lighter clothes. It really wasn't an option now, he told himself, checking the clock.

Sara had called him nearly forty minutes ago. Nick hadn't gotten all the details, but he knew her well enough to guess that she and Greg had been fighting. That had been hours ago. Sara hadn't seen Greg since and neither had anyone at the lab.

It was then Nick had agreed to check a few places for her. She was worried; so was Nick, but he wouldn't let her know that. He knew Greg well enough to know where he might head. He also knew Greg didn't have any money, or mode of transportation. That alone wiped out over half of the places he could have gone.

Even still, it took Nick three stops before he found what he was looking for. He pulled to a stop, grabbing a bottle of water off the passenger seat before getting out. Years ago, before any of this had started, he and Greg would often jog together on their days off. It was a cheaper alternative to going to the gym, especially in the offseason when prices jumped. It was in one of these parks, under the shade of a tree, that Nick found him.

Greg didn't even look his way as Nick sat down, but he did take the water that was offered. It was a good thing, because already he looked dehydrated, and Nick could only guess the man had been out in the heat since leaving the hotel. He took a few swallows of water before recapping it, muttering a quiet thanks.

Nick only nodded, but said nothing, not really sure where to start. The last thing he wanted was to become involved in a feud between his two best friends. He could only imagine that they each wanted him to be on their side. Nick was saved from having to say anything however when Greg was the first to speak.

"How did you find me?"

"Sara called." There was no use in trying to deny it; Greg would have seen right through the lie.

"How'd she know I was here?"

"She didn't," Nick clarified, now understanding what he was asking. "I guessed."

"That obvious huh?"

"It's a good kind of obvious. We needed to find you; Sara was worried, I was worried."

Greg let out a sigh, tracing his finger around the lid of the bottle. "You shouldn't have come."

The statement shocked him. "You are my friend. Why wouldn't I?"

"You should be sleeping."

"So should you."

Greg glanced at him, "I slept last night."

"So did I," Nick answered with a shrug.

"You were at work last night."

"I know," Nick confessed with a smile, "Just don't tell Grissom."

He laughed. It was quiet, and barely undetectable, but the smile on Greg's face said it most of all. Nick laughed as well, motioning to the water to indicate he wanted Greg to drink more. He did so without complaint. They sat there for a while without saying anything, resting in the shade. Finally Nick couldn't stand the silence any longer.

"You want to talk about it?"

"There's nothing to talk about," Greg said quietly.

This is what worried him. Nick knew their personal problems were just that; personal, but he also knew how much it helped to talk about what had happened. It was hard for Nick to remember the last big fight the pair had.

What he did know for sure was the fact that everything was much more difficult back at the lab with the two fighting. "Are you sure?"

"We just had words."

"Words hurt."

Greg shook his head, "Stick and stones Nick."

"And whoever said that never got hit by a dictionary."

Greg only smiled that time, but it seemed sad and withdrawn. "It wasn't that big of a deal, honest."

"Then why are you way out here?"

Greg let out a sigh, closing his eyes. "I needed to think."

"And…?"

"Sara's been hiding things from me…we fought about it," he answered with a shrug. He took another drink of water before continuing.

"I've been trying to get her to go see somebody about her weight…only to find out that she has been; and not telling me. She's just too stubborn to swallow her pride and admit that she was wrong."

Nick frowned. "Is this about her health or her pride?"

Greg was quiet for a moment before answering. "Both; but its not just that Nick. If she can't confide in me over such a minor thing…"

He couldn't finish, but Nick understood what he was saying. He himself had never been in a serious relationship, so such topics had never come to light. But he had to keep reminding himself that Greg and Sara _were _in a serious relationship…very serious.

"Maybe she just didn't want to worry you."

Greg laughed, "Why would I worry?"

"Well," Nick cleared his throat, "If I told you that I was seeing a doctor on a regular basis, would you worry?"

"Of course," Greg answered quickly. "But that's completely different."

"How?"

"Well, for starters, we're not in a relationship."

"Okay, so what if we were?"

Greg frowned, turning to look at him. "What?"

"If we were in a relationship, would you still worry?"

Greg nodded, "I'd worry about what's wrong with me."

"Seriously Greg, humor me here."

The other man nodded, leaning back against the tree as he thought about it. "I suppose I still would be. But I don't see how that has anything to do with Sara hiding things behind my back."

"You would worry about me," Nick told him, "so you would worry about her. She just knows you well enough. Figured it wasn't worth the hassle. Especially since it wasn't that big of a deal."

Greg nodded, and Nick could see the understanding on his face. There really wasn't much else he could give him. The rest would have to come from Sara, and Nick had a feeling that wasn't too far away. Sitting up he reached into his pocket.

"Speaking of relationships," he handed the small box to the man.

Greg watched him suspiciously as he took it. "We've been 'dating' all of three minutes and you're already proposing to me? Don't you think this is moving a little to fast?"

"Just open it Greg."

He did, and fell quiet at the same time. The smile that had been on his face faded, and became more serious. "Where did you find this?"

Nick shrugged, "It was in your clothes, from the scene."

"I thought I had lost it," he answered quietly, fingering the ring. "I didn't notice it was gone until I got to the hotel."

He looked up, meeting the Texan's eyes. "Who else knows?"

Nick shook his head quickly. "No one. I swear," he added when Greg didn't say anything in return.

Greg finally nodded, closing the box in his hands. "Thank you; really, this means a lot to me."

"It's that serious then?"

Greg nodded, "I really do love her. She's just been changing a lot lately."

Nick could give him a small smile. "Everyone changes Greg; everyone."

* * *

It hadn't been the best of days. Though he had slept, it almost seemed pointless after the running he had done. To top it all off he had gotten sunburned, and ended up nearly getting sick before he came to the lab. Nick thought it was heat exhaustion and Greg knew the man was more in likely right. Not wanting to go back to the hotel he had opted to stay at Nick's place, riding in with him to work that night.

No sooner had he walked through the door was he being pointed in the direction of Grissom's office. He knew he was on probation, and required to report to his supervisor at the beginning of each shift, but Greg had been hoping to avoid that. The last thing he needed at the moment was someone babysitting him, and telling him how to do his job.

Greg took the long way around, stopping in the locker room to change, and then in the break room for a cup of coffee. There was no point in denying it; he was stalling for time. Five cups later he was still standing there, staring blankly at the wall. It was where Grissom found him as well.

Greg muttered a quiet apology, dumping the rest of the coffee into the sink. If he never had coffee again it would be too soon; he was worried enough as it was, and now his stomach was starting to cramp.

"You know, that coffee pot used to be full."

"Really?" Greg questioned, feigning innocence. "Somebody should probably fill it back up."

Grissom didn't look too amused as he motioned Greg to follow. The former lab rat hesitated for a moment, wanting to turn around and leave, but thought better of it. If he was already in trouble there was no reason to add onto it.

Grissom was already sitting at his desk by the time he got there, busy filling out paperwork. Greg could easily tell it hadn't been done in a long while, and wondered if that was what Grissom had in store for him. He didn't want to be stuck back in the lab like Nick had been; but the thought of doing paperwork made him ill; that, or it could be all the excess caffeine he just had.

"Come in and close the door."

It wasn't until then Greg realized he had been standing halfway in and out of the office. "We could just leave it open," he suggested.

The look on Grissom's face said otherwise. Greg nodded, stepping inside and closing the door, sitting down in the nearest chair. Closed door conversations were never good. "Are you firing me?"

Grissom must have not heard him, because he never answered. "What did the paramedic say?"

"That I'll live," he responded, "and no, I don't have a concussion." He added on a mentally _I told you so. _

"I just want to make sure," Grissom told him sternly, "You really don't look so good."

"I forgot my sunscreen."

"Is that all?"

Greg shrugged. What was he supposed to say? Personal problems were supposed to be left at home. Besides that, he didn't feel comfortable in discussing his and Sara's arguments with his boss.

"We got a match from DNA."

It was surprising; Greg didn't expect to be updated on the case since being pulled off. "You know who attacked Walters?"

Grissom stared at him for a moment, then shook his head. "No…but we know who broke into your place."

"Oh," Greg nodded quickly, feeling a bit foolish now. He should have known what Grissom was talking about. But it wasn't his fault that he didn't see the break-in as another case.

"Came back with a Riley Wesjan. Name sound familiar?"

Slowly Greg shook his head. The name meant nothing, but he frowned as he watched the other man. "Should…it sound familiar?"

Greg shook his head after a moment. "Should I?"

Though most of his memory had returned from the accident, there were still bits and pieces that were fuzzy, or completely gone. Every so often something would come up in conversation, and Greg would find himself lost. He was wondering if this was one of those times.

"He has a record, been around the country. We believe he may also be connected to the previous break-ins in the complex. He seemed particularly interested in your mail though."

Greg shrugged. "Hey, if he wants to pay our rent, I'm not going to complain."

"We don't think he's after your rent bill Greg," Grissom's voice was stern. "Wesjan has a record of swiping credit card reports, investment reports. He has a history of identity theft."

"You think he's stealing people's identities?"

"We don't know Greg," Grissom shook his head. "None of the other previous victims have had their identity stolen. We're not sure what he's after; but he had gone through stacks of old mail, without so much as swiping a CD, or unhooking the stereo or anything else."

"It's not like we have something of value…" Greg shook his head, frowning for a moment.

"What is it?"

He met Grissom's gaze, still frowning. "A few months ago, we had problems with the mail coming in. They've been renovations on the complex; mail would be missing, or it would just not show up. Sara and I finally purchased a PO Box. We assumed it was just because of all the chaos."

"We're you the only ones?"

Greg thought for a moment, then shook his head. "No, there were a few others, maybe more. It wasn't a highlight discussion, but sometimes it would come up in conversation. I couldn't tell you who it all was."

Grissom nodded. "I'll send someone over to talk to the other tenants, see how many of them were not getting regular mail deliveries."

"You think he was swiping mail before? What for though; what is he looking for?"

"We won't know until we ask him. Meanwhile, I have 419 in Clark County I need you to take. Brass is busy with another case but Damen will meet you there."

Greg frowned, watching the other man. "I can't process a scene alone," he reminded him. "Ecklie…"

"You do your job. I'll deal with Ecklie."

* * *

It felt weird, he had to admit. Knowing that he technically supposed to be out here. There was no telling what Ecklie would say, but even though he was worried, Greg felt relieved to know that Grissom sided with him.

After leaving Grissom's office he had changed, bantered with Nick, grabbed his case, and headed to the scene. Alfred Damen was waiting for him when he arrived. Since starting here, Greg had yet to work with the older man.

It was awkward, no doubt about that, but Greg would rather take the former cop over Brass. It seemed as though he got nothing but foul disposition from the detective as of late. Greg was also sure Brass would have sent him straight back to the lab.

Not having any field experience with Damen before, Greg was hopeful that the man wouldn't judge him. Greg couldn't blame him if he did, given the circumstances of late. Word traveled quickly around the Lab, and most times was exaggerated.

But the smiling face said differently as Damen shook his hand when he arrived. It was different for Greg; normally such formalities didn't take place at a crime scene, but he didn't argue against the fact.

"What do we have?"

"I didn't think you'd come out alone," Damen responded. "I heard…"

"I was cleared," Greg told him quietly. "Can you update me?"

Damen nodded quickly, turning away. "Male, in his late twenties; no ID, no wallet."

Greg set his case down, glancing over the victim. "Looks like a hit and run, he's got tire marks on his clothes." He pointed as Damen crouched next to him. "When did the call come in?"

"About an hour ago; I arrived…maybe twenty minutes ago. Paramedics had already been on location, he was DOA."

"With the way his neck's bent," Greg nodded, taking a few pictures. "I'd say he was killed instantly."

"I'm sorry you know."

Greg frowned as he lowered the camera, confused by what the detective meant. "There's nothing we could have done for him…"

Damen was fidgeting nervously. "Not that…what happened, with you, you know…"

"Oh," Greg nodded, understanding now. "I wasn't hurt, just lucky I guess. At least that's what Nick tells me. He also told me that I was an idiot for fighting the guy. Guess he's right."

"Not about that," Damen responded quickly, "I mean, yeah, the guy breaking in was bad. I heard about that, must have been scary, huh?"

He was now more than confused, but Greg also had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. "What are you talking about?"

"It's nothing…really."

"No," Greg corrected him, "It's something, otherwise you wouldn't have brought it up."

The man moved to his feet, letting out a sigh. Greg was up behind him not too much later. "Damen?"

"I didn't mean to get you into trouble, really. I didn't think anyone would notice, and I was going to return them, I just…I panicked, once I saw how big of a deal it was…"

"What…the case files? The statement…that was you?"

"I was going to put them back; I swear…you can't tell anyone!"

Ill would have been an understatement at the moment. But that wasn't his only concern, because it was turning to anger quickly. "You took them? Do you have any idea to what you done? You could have compromised the entire case!"

"Look, this guy comes up, a reporter, wants information on the school case. I tell him that I don't know anything…"

"What did he offer you?" Greg asked quietly, trying to keep calm.

Damen shook his head. "Money, what else?"

"So you took the statement, the evidence logs…but you didn't give it to them. That wasn't the statement I took."

The man let out a sigh. "I needed the extra money; my wife, Lucy, she's sick, really sick. But after I took the files…I couldn't do it. The reporter just wanted inside information. There was no way for him to tell whether or not it was accurate."

"Where are the statements then?"

"Why? You can't turn them in; they'll want to know where they were. I could lose my job. Greg please, you can't tell anyone."

"So you just want me to take the fall for something I didn't do?"

"You got off easy," Damen told him quietly. "They know you here; they'll take your side. They won't for me. They will fire me, and I won't find work somewhere else. What will I do then? I need to take care of Lucy…do you really want to be responsible for her death?"

"Don't, drag her into this," Greg told him curtly. "You only have yourself to blame."

"Why bring it up again?" Damen questioned, taking a step closer to him. "What's been done is done. It's not going to change what's happened. Please Greg…I wasn't going to say anything to you, but I felt like you deserved to know. Don't make me the bad guy in this, please."

Greg let out a sigh, closing his eyes. "Fine, I won't tell them."

Damen let out a sigh of relief. "Thanks…"

Greg held his hand up, cutting him off. "You're going to tell them."

**TBC**


	15. Confidence

**Another one I need to keep up with; another chapter here. Let me know if you're still reading!**

* * *

**Chapter Fifteen: Confidence **

It really wasn't his fault; everything had moved at warped speed. No one could blame him…so why then did he feel so guilty? Greg shook his head, his concentration blurred as he glanced over the files spread out on the table. He knew why; yet it was as though an alter personality lived inside him, arguing that he shouldn't care. Try as he might, Greg couldn't just pretend it hadn't happened.

Damen wasn't a bad man; rather someone who had made a few ill choices. Still he had only been doing what he had promised when he first made his vows to the woman he loved. The same vows Greg had wanted to make to Sara. '_In sickness and in health.'_ He knew the phrases well enough, had recited them over in his head enough times. If Greg had been in Damen's position, if Sara had been dying…Greg knew he would have done something similar.

The pair was already strapped financially for cash; Greg knew the woes of money and the lack of it. Knew how difficult it was to pay off medical bills and keep up with all of the other demands in life. Damen had only been doing what he felt was right, even when he had been in the wrong. Now the man was about to lose his job; and the heavy feeling in Greg's stomach only got worse.

At the scene things had been too complicated to think about; too much had been happening, and Brass had been none too happy to answer his call. The detective hadn't been the first person Greg wanted to call, but he got a busy signal with Grissom, and Hell would have to freeze over first before he called Ecklie. And by all means, Brass was technically Damen's supervisor, so the news would have to be relayed to the man first.

Damen had tried to feign innocence, but Brass was a veteran in grilling suspects, and it wasn't long before the older man broke under the pressure. Greg had no choice but to return to the lab with them. Brass wasn't going to leave him out a scene without backup, and it made matters worse knowing that he was supposed to be on probation courtesy of Ecklie. Brass had tried to question him as well concerning that matter, but Greg wouldn't answer beyond informing the detective that it had been Grissom's doing. No doubt the man would discuss this incident with his supervisor. Greg had been left with the paperwork on the case while Damen was sent straight to Ecklie's office.

Now Greg had plenty of time to think over what had happened. Damen had been right; what had been done was already done; Greg had just made things worse by opening his mouth. What would have happened if he had said nothing? Greg knew the truth; nothing would have happened. Now Damen would most likely be fired, left without pay, without a job, and his wife would suffer for it. Greg would have held his job either way, even if it wasn't on the best of terms.

He let out a sigh, trying to bring his focus and attention back to what was happening at the moment. Near him Nick cleared his voice, distracting him before he was able to delve into his thoughts once more. "Stop worrying about it."

"I'm not worried," Greg lied through his teeth. Angry? Yes. Upset and betrayed…and guilty, yes to all of those as well. But worried? Okay, so maybe he was worried. Worried about what would happen, not only to him when Ecklie found out he had been at a scene unattended, but to Damen as well. Greg wanted to blame him for everything, but inside he felt for the man, and for some reason couldn't bring himself to hate the detective.

"You haven't finished any of your work," Nick reminded him. "This overtime is already killing me and I'm not staying behind to do your stuff. Ecklie and Grissom will take care of Damen, so stop worrying about it."

"I shouldn't have brought it up." His voice was quiet, Greg having almost whispered the thought.

"What?"

Greg cringed; he knew that Nick wouldn't understand, heck, even he could barely understand. Slowly he shook his head, trying to brush it off. Yet the Texan wouldn't let it go so easily.

"You do realize that man is the reason why you're in so much trouble? Greg, he was going to let you take the fall for everything."

"I'm aware of that, Nick," Greg answered tersely, beginning to fill out the forms for the first time that night. "But I wasn't even supposed to be out at that scene; and he did confess, which shows that he's remorseful."

"Don't tell me you're trying to rationalize for him."

"I'm not," Greg shook his head, swallowing. "Just...what is this going to change?"

"They know for sure that it wasn't you who went to the media."

"What does it matter?" he queried, watching the other man. "No one believed me when I denied it the first time."

"I knew," Nick responded quietly, meeting his gaze. "And I know there are others around here that believed you as well."

Others…he let out a sigh. Sara didn't believe him, and Greg was certain Grissom had a hard time believing it as well, concerning the tone of voice he had last used with the level one CSI. Yet there wasn't much use in bringing it up; Nick would surely deny it, arguing with him even more. The last thing he needed was more arguments; he had enough of those lately.

"You're good at what you do, Greg. You don't have to take the fall for others. Damen made his choice; now he has to live up to the consequences."

He knew Nick was just being kind. Greg knew the truth, knew that he still struggled a lot, a combination of memory issues from the accident, and the nervousness that still surrounded him in several instances. Maybe he was good once, but here…now…no, that was a different story. Still he smiled, nodding to the other man. There was no need to confide in him about pointless worries.

"And that being said, I think it's time for both of us to head out for the night," Nick commented, closing his own files. "We could both benefit from some sleep."

Greg nodded, fighting off a yawn at the suggestion. Out of everyone here it was Nick who had the best idea of how tired he actually was. The Texan had kept the known quarrel quiet, hadn't said anything when the questions came up to Greg's whereabouts that night. Sara had called the lab looking for him earlier and Greg had lied through his teeth, saying he had crashed at Nick's. It was partially true after all, just not the entire truth.

Still he hung behind, packing up the stuff slowly as Nick left the room. For several long moments he paused there, watching the hallways. Certain that the man was not returning, Greg sat back down, opening the nearest file at hand.

Greg never had planned on returning home…to the hotel that was. Their place was still a crime scene; Catherine and Warrick were working on it as fast as they could to clear it. But even then Greg wouldn't feel comfortable returning home. Not only had the place been broken into, but Greg knew he would have to face Sara sooner or later. He wasn't ready for that.

Yet it wasn't just for personal reasons he was staying. The quiet comments about his work, or the lack of it had begun to grind on his nerves. He didn't blame the others for being angry, knowing full well how much work he had actually missed. If it hadn't been for Grissom, well, it was safe to say he wouldn't have a job. So in turn, Greg had figured he could make some of that up. He had pulled plenty of doubles before, and felt confident that he could pull a triple without much complication.

* * *

Part of her wanted to see him; another part did not. Sara knew she had to right the wrongs she had made; the final comment she had uttered had been more than way out of line. That was what she had been trying to avoid; she wanted to separate from Greg, not damage his self-esteem. Even that seemed fragile at times.

But there was no sign of him when she made her way to the lab. Worry was not something that accompanied her. She knew that Greg was fine, at least physically. She needed to talk to him, to let him know she did not mean what she had said, but at the same time she did not want to confuse him. She did not want to lead him on to think that everything was fine between them. After all, she was trying to break up with him. Quickly she pressed a hand to her forehead, sitting down in one of the chairs that surrounded the table. This was starting to get way too complicated.

"Migraine?"

She barely looked up as the voice filled the room, wincing instead. Yeah, she had a migraine, one that was self-induced. Sara nodded instead for her answer, her eyes still closed. "I'm fine."

"You know, I have something that might take care of it," Jaysen commented, "not exactly legal, not yet, but they work."

"Street drugs?" Sara questioned, opening her eyes then. "You're taking street drugs?"

"They're not street drugs," he hushed her quietly, taking a seat near her. "They're…experimental, kind of like one of those trial clinics. Do you want one or not?"

"Not," Sara answered quickly, frowning at him. She couldn't take medication even if she wanted to, and despite that the last thing she was going to put in her body was some form of drug she had no idea of what it was.

"What happened to you by the way?"

The bruise that lined his face was fresh, no more than a couple days old and the man winced as he reached up and fingered it. But quickly he shook his head, masking the slight pain that had accompanied the motion. "Lucky shot; taking a suspect out the other day. It's nothing."

"Tough guy," she commented dryly.

"Not as easy as it looks," he returned, folding his arms as he slouched in the chair. "Bet you haven't taken anyone down, pretty girl like you. Probably don't like to get your fingers dirty."

"I do carry a gun."

"So do I," he shot back, grinning now. "How many suspects have you taken down?"

It was an irritating question, one that she couldn't rightly answer. Her job did not entitle her to do such things, yet it hadn't always stopped her from trying. Those times she had gotten in trouble from it as well. Instead she just smiled, earning a chuckle from the man.

"So you haven't then?"

"Didn't say that," she clarified, "just not supposed to."

"But you have, and you would…wouldn't you?"

"What do you mean?"

Jaysen let out a sigh, pulling off his baseball cap for a moment before slipping it back on, backwards this time. "I don't know, let's say you were in a situation where you had no choice; either yourself or someone else. Would you be able to do it?"

"Kill someone?" Sara asked.

"Shocking, I know," he nodded, "but this is just theoretical. Don't feel bad for answering. It's one of the questions I got back in Sacramento before I came out here."

Quickly she shook her head, a frown crossing her face. Killing someone was quite different than taking a suspect down. Taking a life…no, she couldn't do that. And yet, the more she thought about it, the more she realized what her true feelings were. There had been times when she felt like killing, killing those responsible for what had happened to Greg. But they had just been feelings; she hadn't acted on them.

"Depends on the situation, I guess," she muttered quietly, the emotions still toiling inside of her.

"Good answer," Jaysen nodded to her with a smile. "An answer of no would be arrogant, promoting the fact that you believed nothing would ever happen to you. An answer of yes would be overdrawn; a potential that you would kill needlessly. You could make a good detective, you know."

She laughed, "I'm a scientist. I'm no different than you; I only follow evidence instead of people. Evidence doesn't lie, people do."

"They do," he agreed. "Sort of like how you lie when you claim there's nothing wrong."

It caught her off guard, she had to admit, but somehow she was able to control her reaction. Inside her heart skipped a beat, but her voice was clear as she asked. "What do you mean?"

"You're right; I follow people; so I can tell when they're lying. You said earlier that you're fine; that's not true."

Maybe he was a physic, or maybe he had heard the talk around the lab. It wouldn't have been hard for the man to hear that she was having issues with Greg. Their past was no secret, and yet it wasn't as though the others went about bringing up the instances without any thought. Still there were the records, and the newspaper clippings. Jaysen could learn a lot about them shortly if he wished, but Sara knew the man had little reason.

But as he watched her more, Sara disregarded those thoughts. It could be anything, she realized. Her loss in weight; weight that she was starting to gain back now as the nauseating feelings died, or the fact that she always looked so worn and drawn. He could be asking because he worried, or it could be due to the fact of her constant distraction.

Personally she had been surprised that none of the others had asked after her yet, but again she was convinced otherwise. The others knew of her temperamental moods, and the ability to bite someone's head off if they pried too much. Jaysen, however, wouldn't have known, which would prompt his asking in the first place.

And that…that was a good thing. She met his gaze slowly, her heart pounding in her chest. Could she tell him? She pondered it for a moment, relishing in the fact that she could finally tell someone else, knowing that she would no longer be carrying this burden alone/herself. The truth was that Jaysen was detached enough to look at it as a case, view it as someone from the outside. He was someone from the outside. He didn't know the history, hadn't been there through everything that she and Greg had gone through. If she truly wanted an outsider's opinion…then Jaysen would be the perfect candidate…wouldn't he?

"Can we go for a walk?" She asked slowly, keeping her voice low. "There are some things I want to ask you…but it can't be here."

**TBC**


End file.
